


A Gentleman's Gentleman

by Elpin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elpin/pseuds/Elpin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Malfoys lost their fortune and disappeared years ago. When Draco returns he uses a different name and decides to become a valet. Harry has inherited a fortune and is in need of a servant. A match made in heaven? Based on "Jeeves and Wooster" and set in 19th century wizarding London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gentleman's Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in about the late 19th century, but since it's the wizarding world I take a few liberties. In my mind house elves are tied to families and can't often be bought. "New money" must therefore employ people.
> 
> Inspired by the wonderful series "Jeeves and Wooster" with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie. I haven't read the books, just fyi.

Chapter One: the new Lord and the new Valet

Harry groaned, his head waking him up by beginning to pound fiercely. He rolled over, feeling every inch of his body like a ton of dead weight. There was a horrible knocking somewhere, inside his head most likely. Knocking  _and_  pounding, the tiny part of his brain that was still conscious thought. Wasn't that a bit much?

Ah, silence- apart from the pounding. Harry allowed his brain to turn back off, planning to sleep at least another twelve hours.

The knocking returned after only a slight pause. It was polite, not a decibel louder than necessary, but to Harry it sounded like Armageddon. There was something in the nature of the knocking that compelled Harry to drag his sorry hide out of bed. It was as if each knock on wood told Harry that this person wasn't going away anytime soon.

He staggered, swayed, lurched, wobbled, and stumbled his way to the entrance hall. It was a large, though slightly narrow room, with a high ceiling and dusty, sombre furnishings. The wallpaper was a sort of grey-green colour with flowers so faded you hardly noticed them. The expensive everlasting-candles were, of course, still burning, but they only made Harry squint. He managed to get the door open eventually, glaring feebly out into the street.

'Who're you?' On his front steps stood a blond man dressed in perfectly cut black robes with the traditional white cuffs of a servant. He was about Harry's height, but that's where the likeness ended. His shining hair matched his light grey eyes well, and his skin was flawless. The only thing that marred the ethereal beauty of the man was his blank stare and ever so slightly pursed lips.

'Are you a Mr. Porter?' The man's voice was refinement itself and caused Harry to stop blinking at the man's appearance and focus, a little at least.

'Potter,' he corrected.

'Ah, yes, my apologies,' the man smiled thinly. 'I meant Mr. Potter, or rather Lord Potter now, is that not so? Your friend, Mr. Finnigan, said you were in need of a valet, and I have come to offer my services. My name is Draco Spinks.'

That was a lot of information for Harry's probably-still-drunken mind. He blinked and tried to shake his head, but that only brought back the pounding.

Harry was indeed in need of a valet, as all his friends and associates had informed him. Normally, a fortune such as the Potters' would include one or more house-elves, but the former Lord Potter's house-elf staff had been reduced to one lonely elf, who had died shortly after his master. Since all available house-elves were owned by the big families, it left Harry no choice but to hire a human servant, although privately Harry preferred paying wages to a human rather than owning a magical creature.

'Perhaps I may come in and show you my excellent references?' Harry nodded numbly, turned, and tottered down the hall, past the grand stairs, and into the kitchen at the back of the house. He could hear Spinks following him. Too tired to think about manners or the like, Harry dropped into a chair at the large table. It was a well-used and old wooden table, having been utilized to prepare food for perhaps as long as the house had stood. It now served to carry Harry's head, as he was unable to.

He heard something being set quietly on the table in front of him and from the sound of it he reasoned Spinks must have brought a bag of some sort with him. He distantly heard rummaging and then something else was set by his right hand.

'If you would drink this, Sir.' It was the "Sir" that did it- he still wasn't used to people calling him that. At least it was better than "Milord," which made him shudder every time he heard it.

Finding some strength within him, Harry made his hand move and found a small glass vial. He raised his head and sniffed at the contents. Being of a rather reckless disposition and known for his trusting nature, Harry merely shrugged inwardly and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. It burned down his throat and felt like acid in his gut, and for a moment Harry was in danger of believing himself at death's door. Then a strange sensation spread from his stomach out to the tips of his extremities. He was all at once as he had been yesterday before his night out. His head was so suddenly clear he was sure it would float off his head at any moment. He stared at the man in his kitchen with amazement and growing delight.

'Merlin's beard, what on earth was in that stuff?' he exclaimed, eyeing the empty vial with curiosity.

'An extra strength sobering and pepper-up potion, Sir, of my own creation.' This made Harry even more astonished, and by the curl of Spinks' lip it was clear this pleased the man in a deep, quiet fashion. Being now completely sober and feeling utterly refreshed, Harry was able to find the manners his dear friend Miss Granger had instilled in him since childhood.

'I must compliment you then, on your brilliant potion skills.'

'I thank you, Sir.' Spinks turned to his bag, a plain looking handbag (with handles), but which Harry guessed to contain wizarding space. This surprised him somewhat, as those kinds of bags were expensive, and few could make them themselves. It was unheard of in the lower class, where a servant like Spinks would most likely have come from. Elegant, long-fingered hands pulled out a small stack of letters. 'I have references from Lady Defaux and also the Comtesse-'

'Please, please, put them away,' Harry waved his hand, surprising the young Spinks. 'This potion is all the reference I need. Consider yourself hired.' Spinks gave a graceful bow of the head, not like the pathetically extravagant bows Harry sometimes had to endure from others.

'Thank you, Sir. I shall endeavour to serve you to the best of my abilities.'

'Yes, I'm sure that will do splendidly.' Harry grinned, feeling a little out of character due to his joviality, but unable to stop smiling at his handsome new valet. Finally, perhaps his life would not seem so disorganized, nor his duties so intimidating with someone to help get him up in the mornings.

'Let me show you to the servants' rooms,' Harry pronounced and rose.

'That won't be necessary, Sir, I will be able to find my own way. Incidentally, do you prefer I call you Sir, or Milord?'

'Oh, Sir is just fine,' Harry nodded emphatically to underscore this point.

'I thought so,' Spinks murmured, that same odd curl of the lips making Harry feel strangely proud to have been the cause of it. Grey eyes, so full of thought compared to what Harry saw in the mirror - he considered himself from the lower class when it came to the cognitive processes – looked him up and down before meeting green eyes, and Harry felt a heating of his cheeks almost immediately when he realised what he was wearing! In his stupor he had come down in his nightshirt! It reached to just past his knees and was white with thin blue stripes. And what must his hair look like? Harry had never been a vain man - his upbringing would not allow it - and he knew his hair as "the untameable beast" courtesy of Miss Granger, but after a night of frivolities and five hours of sleep, "bed head" would most likely not even begin to describe it.

'Would Sir like to rest a few more hours, while I settle in and acquaint myself with the house? I should have realised I came far too early on a Saturday morning. I can have a bath ready for you when you wake up.'

'That sounds-… lovely,' Harry stuttered. 'But I do think your potion has quite woken me up.'

'Yes, it does that,' Spinks murmured. 'Shall we go upstairs then, Sir, and you can have your bath straight away.' If Harry felt it strange to be ordered about in his own house, his mind did not put those sentiments into thoughts. Indeed, he felt entirely at ease to do as his new valet suggested, and led the way up the stairs and into the bedroom. Spinks immediately surveyed the room – Harry felt a slight blush of his cheeks again – but ignored the mess in favour of inspecting the bathroom. Within moments Harry heard the water running and spied steam rolling from the door.

Padding in after Spinks, Harry saw the man putting in salts, which he realised he had never used himself. The bath was an old lion-clawed thing, but spelled to keep a perfect temperature and to be filled without delay. The size was not what you would find in a country manor, but for a bachelor in a city house it was just fine.

'Sir?' Harry's head snapped to Spinks, who was holding his hands out as if to take something. 'May I take your nightshirt, Sir?'

'Oh, right.' Harry lifted the garment, and Spinks helped him get it smoothly off his head, leaving him completely naked. Feelings somewhat exposed – not used to servants or bathing in company – Harry's face and chest heated for the third time that morning. Spinks, however, was all professional, and gestured to the tub while saying:

'I shall be in the other room if you need me Sir.' When he was gone Harry hastened into the water, forgetting his embarrassment the moment it enfolded his flesh. Sighing and groaning a bit, Harry leaned back and allowed himself to feel nothing but the pleasure of the water and the scent of the salts.

Some would perhaps think it strange to hire a valet so quickly and putting him to work so directly, but Harry had done most of his transactions in life with his instincts. Draco Spinks was a man who obviously knew his trade very well, and he would without a doubt be a great asset to Harry in his new position as Lord Potter.

He had inherited the title, and indeed the name, just a few months ago when his grandfather died. Harry had not known his grandfather was named Lord Potter before then. He had not even known his father's name. The late Lord Potter had paid for his schooling, but Harry had only known him as an "anonymous benefactor to a poor orphan." Before becoming a Lord, Harry worked at the Ministry's Muggle Liaison Office. It was a dreary place in the basement where no one ventured except when in need of special permits for when a witch or wizard wanted to tell a muggle friend or relative of the wizarding world's existence. Harry had been a clerk there, and the only upside was that he had sometimes been allowed to come with his superior to the Ministry's fundraisers. There he had observed people whose lives were the envy of all others. Never had he dreamed he would one day be one of them.

Then Lord Potter died of old age, leaving a property and fortune that was entailed to the direct male line of decent, as it had always been, though without an heir it would have gone to the closest male relative, in this case to a family called Malfoy, though Harry was unaware of this fact. Unfortunately, the Malfoy family had left England several years ago and had disappeared. All searches proved futile. So, not wanting the money to go to the Blacks, whose only remaining member was in prison, Lord Potter had, with his last strength, penned a letter to his solicitor, explaining where to find young Harry. The proper bloodline spells had been preformed, and Harry had been taken to his new life.

And what a life it was, Harry thought as he allowed himself to prune. Parties and new friends desperate for his attention. It was all quite overwhelming for poor Harry. Only Miss Granger and young Mr Weasley were there to keep him on his feet. Now, though, he had Spinks, and surely the man would be able to help?

'Spinks? I think I'm ready to get out. I've got lots to do today, I've just realised,' Harry mused allowed. He had lunch with Aunt McGonagall, as she insisted on being called, did he not? That was a depressing thought. Luckily Spinks would be able to keep track of his appointments from now on.

xxx

Draco had been a bit depressed when the door opened to reveal a pathetic looking man with hair like a crow's nest, wearing a nightshirt far too big. The face was handsomely proportioned at least, and if the man lacked every kind of aristocratic manner and refinement, then at least he seemed kind. Draco would have to call himself content with that, and instead take it upon himself to make this man presentable.

Then he had looked him in the eye and Draco had seen only green. Perfect forest green. Pretty enough, he supposed, but that was hardly relevant.

Then he had taken off his shirt. A body, could a man not made of marble have such a body? Completely beside the point, of course, so it was wholly unproductive to entertain such silly wonderings. Still…

Draco's weakness had always been men with sculpted figures and bright eyes. It was a dangerous vice, when all wizarding men were practically required by law to breed. Servants got away from the high-society gossiping of course, but Draco knew that when a wizard reached a certain age people would start to whisper if he didn't have a wedding ring on his finger.

He tidied up quickly while his new employer took a bath and berated himself strongly for letting the images of Lord Potter's naked body linger in his mind. He swore at himself even more for entertaining fantasies of that flesh wet and dripping with soapy foam. No, no! He would not allow himself to desire another man ever again and certainly not his employer and a Lord!

With this resolution firmly in mind and all traces of naked Harry gone, Draco followed the summons he heard and promptly cursed the new Lord, though inwardly of course, for getting up at all.

'Allow me.' Holding a towel while Lord Potter stepped out, Draco was immensely grateful for his ability to shield all thoughts and feelings, not to mention desires. 'I have laid out the green and black robe, Sir. I thought it the best choice with the weather in mind and can be worn to both a nice lunch or just to the club.'

'Oh, can it? That's good, fine, I mean that's fine. Thank you, Spinks.' Harry went to dress himself and Draco drained the water.

' _I can ignore his body and eyes,_ ' he thought dispassionately.  _'I haven't allowed myself to touch a man in years. I'm sure all such fantasies have left me. This will be a good job with a good employer. I must simply stay professional, keep a proper distance, and keep decorum at all times.'_

Draco nodded, satisfied that he had solved his problems with his iron will, and went to assist his Lord.

Oh, how wrong he was.

_Chapter 2: The Question of Draco Spinks_

'And of course he wouldn't listen and the whole party was simply ruined.' Harry nodded, trying his very best to act attentive to the woman who had helped raise and educate him. His feelings towards her were very warm, but she could talk at length.

Madam Minerva McGonagall, or Aunt Minnie as she preferred her dearest "children" and friends to call her, had been running Godric's Home for Magical Children for nigh twenty years. In the muggle world a child exhibiting any signs of magic was likely to be either discarded or killed. After her husband had passed away Minerva had made it her life's mission to help these children. Harry had been one of her charges, whom she had taken a special liking to, as she had been the one to find him. At the time Harry had been kept in a wooden cage in his relatives' cellar. Only five years old, but unable to speak or understand others. She had saved him and made him the man he was today.

'Are you listening to me, Harry?' Blinking out of his reverie, the young male focused his attention on his hostess. 'I wonder where you were off to,' she murmured with a sly smile.

'Just old memories,' Harry said with a small curl of his lips. By the way his eyes roamed fleetingly around the old salon, Minerva could guess which memories.

'So tell me,' she said, swiftly changing the subject, as she was wont to do, 'have you hired a valet yet? You cannot possibly imagine that you can live in that house alone. Indeed, you should have at least three servants, minimum.'

'I think one valet will be enough for me, dear Aunt,' Harry concluded politely. 'But I have hired somebody, a one Draco Spinks. He seems very capable.'

'My dear boy, you will never pass for a rich man, but I suspect that is no great loss to you.' Minerva commented with a fond smile. 'Spinks, you say? Spinks. I do not believe I have ever heard of such a name before. Had he any references?'

'A whole stack of letters, but I haven't… gotten around to them yet. He saved me from a foul headache this morning, though. He has a talent for potions.' This made Minerva frown deeply.

'A servant with a talent in potions? That seems highly suspicious if you ask me. Where would he learn such a thing?'

'I suppose he could have picked up a few things, if he worked for a Potions Master for one,' Harry said slowly, trying to hide his unease.

'Listen to me, Harry, a Potions Master is still a man with a trade. They are not paid well enough to keep servants, though perhaps if it was a great Master this Spinks could have been employed as an assistant to clean up. Usually, however, a Master only has his apprentice.'

'Maybe he started out as an apprentice and changed his mind?'

'Oh, you are still young in the ways of the world.' Harry cleared his throat at the remark, but the witch did not notice. 'Usually trades stay in the family, but a man of reasonable means could allow his son to become an apprentice, but once there, that son would be most ungrateful were he to give it up. Certainly, I could see no other reason for a boy to leave his Master other than if he were terrible at it, and your own experience tells you Spinks is very good at potions.'

'Well, yes…'

'There, you see? It seems like quite the mystery. I shall be dining with you tomorrow, I think, so that I may put a few questions to this Spinks. Miss Granger will no doubt love to attend as well. Her keen eyes and intellect will be of great help.' Like Harry, Hermione Granger had come to Godric's House at age seven, though her parents had brought her there with tears in their eyes, saying they simply did not know what to do, and they still visited her frequently. Harry always had a sneaking suspicion that Minerva was trying to get the two of them to marry.

'Aunt Minnie, I really don't think-'

'You are far too trusting and kind, Harry,' Minerva declared, leaning forward in her chair and placing a placating hand on Harry's knee. 'You can't expect your friends to sit idly by while you are swindled out of your newly attained fortune.'

'I suppose not.' Harry said with a resigned air. Minerva patted him on the knee before she withdrew to pour more tea. 'I am grateful that I have you to look out for me… would you mind terribly if I invited Ron Weasley as well?' Minerva's lips pursed immediately, as she did not approve of Harry's friend. Not because of the family's meagre income, but because all Weasley boys tended to get into a lot of trouble. She also did not like the way he stared at Miss Granger.

'If you must.'

'I really think it would make the evening less… interrogative.' Harry held his breath to see if his remark was badly taken, but after pursing her lips a few seconds longer, Minerva relented and smiled at her favourite student.

XXX

'Spinks?' Harry called, wondering where his new valet was. He hung up his coat and pulled off his gloves. He still wasn't quite used to the expensive clothes and wearing gloves and hats, but he knew he couldn't be seen in public with anything less. As he set his wizard's hat on a hook, glad to have it off, Spinks came with swift steps down the stairs.

'My apologies, Sir, I did not hear you come in.'

'No need for apologies, Spinks,' Harry said. 'I am capable of taking off my coat myself. I have been doing it for years, you know.' Spinks stopped in front of Harry and his eyes glinted, just like they had in the kitchen that morning. Harry noted that it was the look of a man about to say something clever.

'The clerk from the Muggle Liaison Office may have taken his coat off on his own, but Lord Potter does not, Sir.'

'You know where I work? Or worked, rather?' Harry asked, surprised, but not affronted. Spinks turned to the side table under an ornate mirror where Harry had placed his gloves. Pale fingers took the gloves and then the valet went to put them in the hallway closet, taking Harry's coat and hat with him. As he did all this he spoke casually.

'I met a few gossiping witches at Diagon Market, but I shall not mention your past again, Sir. I meant no offence.' Harry, a little bemused as to why his coat could not hang in the hallway as it had done before, simply shook his head.

'I am not offended. I was merely surprised. Oh, dear, I hope you got enough food for four, because Aunt Minnie just made me invite her over for dinner.' Spinks came back from arranging the clothes, shutting the closet door and giving a slight bow to Harry.

'I believe I can make an excellent roast, Sir, and might I enquire who the other guests will be?'

'Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I suppose I should hire a cook as well, it's not really-'

'A valet, Sir, serving a bachelor such as yourself, is perfectly capable of attending to every need. The occasional dinner party will not exhaust me, I assure you, Sir.'

'You know you say Sir an awful lot.' Harry commented. 'You couldn't limit yourself to one per sentence?'

'I always say one Sir per sentence… Sir.' Harry felt the corner of his lips tugging at the almost dramatic pause, and felt pleased, despite his slight embarrassment, for the same look of deep pleasure on Spinks' face. Deep meaning here that it was barely visible, but enough for Harry.

'Well, maybe one per… speech, or answer.'

Spinks gave another bow, 'As you wish, Sir.'

'Good, then that's settled. I think I'll just-…' Having been employed as a clerk up until his sudden good fortune, Harry still had trouble filling his days. He sometimes felt so utterly lost without a vocation that he went to the club, though Miss Hermione Granger had told him several times it was only for snobby rich wizards with nothing better to do than sit around and gossip while drinking themselves silly.

'If I may suggest something, Sir? I do not know if you have studied your late grandfather's library…' The pause prompted Harry to answer.

'No, actually. I don't think I've been in there yet.' The "yet" was added purely to avoid another embarrassment. In reality Harry had not even thought about the library. He had had his fill of books working as a clerk.

'There are some very fascinating volumes there I think you may find interesting. Also, a few family accounts.'

'Really?'

'Indeed, Sir. I only perused the spines as I was cleaning. Shall I bring in a pot of tea for you?'

'Yes, yes, I think that would be capital. I'll just go and… have a look, shall I?'

'I think that would be a grand idea, Sir.' Harry smiled and Spinks returned it briefly. While his valet hurried off to make tea, Harry wandered through the house looking for the library, not once thinking about the way he had been handled by his servant. In fact he was inwardly praising Spinks for a good job. He had not spent much time in the house, dreary and empty as it was, but he could clearly see how much Spinks had accomplished in just a few hours.

Every surface was spotless, not one artefact out of place, and the windows seemed bigger and let in more light, Harry was sure, making the place not so depressing anymore. Were the curtains smaller? Thinner? Harry could not tell.

The house Harry had inherited had been built not so long ago, in what the muggles would later call the Early Victorian Period. It took some fashions from muggles, but mostly it held wizarding décor throughout, apart from the modern plumbing, which had been added. This meant that the furnishings and such were a strange blend of styles from Medieval to the present, with bits of Roman, Greek and Egyptian symbols thrown in here and there. The house was hidden between two muggle homes, completely invisible to them, but just as big. Three stories high, it was rather oversized for a lone bachelor.

The library was bigger than expected, located at the back of the house with windows facing the small garden. The bookcases reached the ceiling, and the fireplace was large, but evidently not sufficiently large to be used conveniently as a Floo. A dark desk stood by the windows, with a very comfortable looking armchair. Harry seated himself there and examined the papers in the different drawers. Finding nothing of interest, he then rose and went to the nearest bookcase, eager to read a bit about the Potter line. A yellow spine caught his eye.

_The Picture of Dorian Grey_

Harry took it out and opened it to a random page. He read a few lines, his eyes widening with every word. This was a muggle book!

'Shall I put the tea on the desk, Sir?' Harry started violently, dropping the book and spinning to face Spinks, who stood poised to place the tray wherever Harry desired. 'My apologies, Sir. I did knock.' He placed the tray on the desk and then came towards Harry, stooping and picking up the book before Harry could get his wits about him.

'Oscar Wilde,' Spinks murmured, reading the author's name. 'A talented author by any standards.'

'You know him?'

'A little.'

'But it's- He's-'

'A muggle? Yes,' Spinks paused, handing the book back to Harry without making eye contact. 'I have been known on occasion to read muggle literature, and I have even ventured into the muggle world. If this distresses you in any way I will of course leave at once.'

'What? No! I didn't mean it like that at all,' Harry professed, quite desperate to keep Spinks. 'I know it is not something one talks about in public, but I really don't see how it's anyone else's business what one person reads… have you read this one?'

'… Yes, I have.'

'Did you enjoy it?' Had Draco Spinks been truthful, he would have confessed to reading that particular book no less than ten times. As it was, he simply nodded thoughtfully while saying:

'I found it well-written and engaging, Sir.' Harry studied the cover of the book again, wondering if he should read it. The muggle and wizarding worlds were kept apart for many reasons, not least for protection against discovery and contamination. It was simply something people accepted. Muggle-borns, by some considered unnatural, were generally welcomed as long as they kept their muggle heritage away from their public persona, and – in recent years – had attended Godric's House.

'I think I will read it,' Harry mused aloud, returning to his seat. He did not notice how Draco's eyes widened in surprise.

'Very well, Sir. Will that be all?'

'Yes, thank you, Spinks, that will be all.' Harry was already down the first page when Draco silently closed the door behind him.

XXX

Oh, but it would not do! His situation could not be worse! What would Lord Potter say when he finished the book? Draco Spinks was quite miserable, even though no one could tell by the way he was methodically folding every piece of linen he had just washed. His face was perfectly blank, his emotions deep and hidden at all times. Inwardly, he screamed.

Perhaps Harry would simply not notice? But no, one would have to be a daft fool not to notice the homoeroticism in such a book. It was a story Draco had been fascinated with since he could read. He knew himself to be quite beautiful, and perhaps even a little vain, but he was not like Dorian Grey, at least. Draco's father on the other hand… but that was a different story.

Dorian Grey had also been fascinated by a book, and the amusing parallel was not lost on Draco, who had several copies of the volume in his possession.

Perhaps Lord Potter would get bored of the book. He did not seem the type to read much. Perhaps Draco would be spared the humiliation of being thrown out. Reading muggle books was one thing, reading anything that would encourage people to avoid producing children… that was a serious offence indeed.

XXX

Harry was still reading several hours later when Draco came in and announced that dinner was ready. Harry felt heat rising from his collar, but put the book away with a firm hand without letting himself blush. He did not understand his continuing embarrassment around his new valet, nor did he feel inclined to analyse it thoroughly. All he did was adjourn to the dining room for a delicious meal. Despite having dined out with several new upper-class acquaintances, as well as with Aunt Minnie and the Weasleys, Harry still felt a little strange sitting at such a long table, with such fine china, and with another man waiting on him. He almost asked Spinks to join him, but knew it was hardly appropriate, and so ate in silence as well as solitude.

When the meal was all gone Harry returned to his library, smiling when he thought of how he was starting to feel a little at home at last. He read until he was too tired to keep his eyes open, and then took the book with him to bed.

XXX

'… Spinks?' Harry asked, putting the book away just after noon the next day, having finished the entire thing. Spinks was about to take away Harry's lunch, but he paused when Harry spoke.

'Yes, Sir?'

'This book,' Harry said indicating  _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ with a nod. 'What did you think of it?'

'I believe I mentioned it was well-written and engaging, Sir.' Harry's brow furrowed as he wondered how Spinks could sound so polite and put out at the same time.

'Well, what did you think was engaging about it?' Spinks started placing things on the tray; plate, cup, glass, and even the thin vase with the single flower he had brought in, and which Harry had thought a very nice touch.

'The characters,' Spinks said distractedly at last, as he made sure no crumbs were left on the table.

'What about the characters?' Harry pressed, studying the man, but unable to read anything but quiet efficiency in every movement.

'I really couldn't say, Sir.' Having finished cleaning, Spinks lifted the tray. 'Will that be all, Sir?'

'No,' Harry proclaimed, frowning. 'Surely you can tell me your opinion on this book, Spinks?'

'I liked it, Sir,' Spinks replied with a soft shrug, an apologetic expression on his face. 'I am not a literary critic, Sir, so I do not think my opinion on this matter is of relevance. Did you enjoy it, Sir?'

'Oh, well, I…' A now all too common blush was rising again, but Harry was getting better at suppressing it. 'I suppose… yes, I did,' he said with regaining confidence.

'Very good, Sir.' With that Spinks left Harry to his own thoughts.

Despite having been told so many times by his teachers in his youth, Harry Potter was not stupid. He had read the book cover to cover, and there was not a doubt in his mind that it contained certain themes which proper wizarding society would not tolerate. The question was; had Spinks read it that way? Perhaps Harry was focusing on the wrong theme, perhaps it wasn't important, or perhaps he was even reading too much into the character's feelings for Dorian Gray?

'Basil' – the character in question – 'could very well be simply in awe of Dorian's aesthetic value to him as an artist,' Harry thought aloud to himself. Even though the description of Dorian Gray did not match a certain valet, Harry had been unconsciously imagining Spinks while reading. This, however, he did not think of, much. 'It was a very good book, engaging certainly, and one shouldn't judge a muggle book by wizarding standards, should one?' No, absolutely not, was Harry's conclusion, and so let the matter rest.

Determined to forget the whole matter, Harry got up and looked around for another book.

XXX

Dinner arrived, along with a stern Madam McGonagall, an eager Miss Granger, and a jolly Ron Weasley. Harry needed only to take one look at the pair of ladies to know they had spoken of the "mystery of Draco Spinks" in detail, and were determined to get answers. This made Harry uneasy, and he wished he could somehow get them to drop the matter, but he knew that there was nothing he could say that would deter them.

Ron Weasley was simply glad to be in the company of his beloved, though he had told only Harry of this fact, and so he was immensely grateful for every meeting Harry arranged. The pair, speaking now of Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, had met at the Ministry were they both worked. Ron had originally been in the same department as Harry, but had managed to move on to more interesting things due to his knack for "understanding the language of bureaucracy" as he called it, which Harry did not, at all. Miss Granger worked at the Minister's office as a secretary, but she had big plans for her career.

They all sat down to dinner, and Harry felt both pleased that his table was somewhat filled, and guilty for putting such a burden on Spinks so early in their relationship. He was deeply impressed when Spinks came out with the first course – apparently there were to be three – and it was absolutely scrumptious. Harry was about to compliment Spinks on his excellent cooking skills when Aunt Minnie spoke.

'Spinks, was it?' she asked as he poured her more wine.

'Correct, Madam,' Spinks answered in perfect politeness, even though Minnie had been less than polite.

'Where were you born?'

'Aunt, don't you think-' Harry began, but was interrupted.

'I am asking your valet a question, Harry, do let him answer.'

Harry had a feeling dinner would be a very long affair.

_Chapter 3: Of books and characters_

Having finished pouring Aunt Minnie's wine, Spinks gracefully moved to the next glass, filling Miss Granger's as he spoke.

'I was born in Wiltshire, Madam, but I was raised in France.'

'And was your father a valet?' Aunt Minnie continued relentlessly, though Spinks did not seem to be affected at all. Harry was fidgeting uneasily, wishing he could interrupt her. He did not want Spinks to decide to leave because of Harry's friends.

'No, Madam. He owned some land.' Both Ron and Harry had received their wine now, and the latter wished they could let Spinks go so they could eat in amiable silence, but his wish was not to be granted.

'You use the past tense?' Only Harry noticed the tightening of Spinks' jaw, due to his intense scrutiny of the serving valet.

'Indeed, Madam, for he was forced to sell some years ago.'

'So, where is he now?'

'I am afraid I have lost contact with both my parents, Madam. If you will allow me, I shall prepare the next course.' Before Spinks could move an inch, Aunt Minnie had raised her index finger.

'One moment, I am not finished,' she proclaimed. 'Where were you educated as a valet?'

'I learned by trade from the father of a friend, Madam, who taught me everything I know and then was kind enough to convince his Mistress to get me a job.' Aunt Minnie opened her mouth to ask yet another question, but Harry intervened just in time.

'I think that's enough questions for tonight. Why don't we let Spinks get back to the kitchen and we can enjoy our meal.' Spinks bowed to the ladies and gentlemen in turn, and then was swiftly gone, leaving Madam McGonagall pursing, and Harry relieved, until she rounded on him.

'You did not give me the chance to enquire about his potion abilities.'

'Forgive me, Aunt Minnie, but I must protest,' Harry said, containing his growing anger and fearing it, for when he did get angry on those rare occasions, it seldom went well. His youth had been problematic because of it. 'You forced the man to admit his father lost everything and that they had a falling out, then you made him admit he gained his job on the charity of others. His potion abilities, and where he got them, I think is his own business. I only hope he will stay on despite all this.'

Aunt Minnie's lips were at full pursing, and she looked most displeased by Harry's reprimand. Miss Granger looked shocked at her friend, while Ron merely raised his eyebrows at his friend's daring.

'Very well,' Aunt Minnie said finally, breaking the tense silence. 'I will leave you to manage your own servant, but mind you keep an eye on him.'

'I promise I will, Aunt Minnie,' Harry said sincerely, hoping to placate the woman. 'I know you only want what is best for me.' This made the corner of the woman's mouth tilt, and her eyes softened.

'Of course I do, Harry,' she said, and they all knew it was fine by her use of her student's first name. They ate quietly, only speaking to observe the quality of the food, and Harry felt at ease again, even sending Spinks a secret smile when their eyes met as he set down Aunt Minnie's next course. Spinks nodded and gave a tiny smile back, and Harry knew everything would be all right.

DHDHDHDH

' _What a rude old woman!'_  Draco thought harshly, as he cleaned up in the kitchen after the guests had finally left. The old and rich could afford to be insolent, that much was certain, and Draco could do nothing except answer back, as truthfully as he could. After all, the exact definition of "some land" could be debated endlessly. No, Draco had not lied, precisely… Thank Merlin the woman had been stopped before she could delve any deeper.

Stopped by Harry, strangely, miraculously, wonderfully. Draco smiled as he worked. He had not been able to keep from listening to the pair's conversation after he had left, and was both immensely pleased and a little worried. Harry had defended him, but he had also let Draco know it was his potion abilities that had sparked suspicion. He couldn't allow the truth to come out, that much was certain.

'Spinks?' When Harry had hired Draco, the house had immediately recognised Draco as the Lord's servant. The magicks therefore let Draco hear whenever Harry called his name, and he would instinctively know where Harry was. The call came from the library, so Draco put away his wand after a few spells and let the kitchen clean itself for a while. He would most likely not be gone long, so the spells could continue unsupervised.

DHDHDHDH

Harry was perusing another book, one of the annals of the Potter family. He studied the extensive family tree, stretching across several pages, taking in each name curiously. He looked up when Spinks poked his head in.

'You called, Sir?'

'Yes, come in for a moment.' Harry put aside the book to show he meant to give Spinks his full attention. The young valet stood before the desk with the same blank, but polite look Harry had come to expect. 'I meant to thank you for a lovely dinner, and I also felt the need to apologise for Madam McGonagall.' Harry couldn't hide his pained expression.

'Please, Sir,' Spinks interrupted. 'That is very noble of you, but I assure you, quite unnecessary. Madam McGonagall was only concerned, and it was perhaps reasonable, considering you have not looked over my references.'

'You think I should?' Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, feeling infinitely better now Spinks had given his assurance.

'Only if you wish, Sir… but if I may be so bold-…' It was the first time Harry had seen a look of slight uncertainly cross Spinks' pale face, and he hastened to reassure him in turn.

'Please, speak candidly,' he implored. 'In fact, I insist you always speak candidly to me. I confess that whenever people don't speak frankly to me I never know what they truly mean, or if they mean anything at all.' He finished with a slightly nervous laugh, and was pleased when Spinks' lips turned up at the corner.

'Very well, Sir,' Spinks answered with a small nod. 'I believe, from what I have observed so far, that you are a good judge of character. Not in the way that you can tell the type of personality a person has, or even if they are being truthful with you, but I think you can sense if a person is  _fundamentally_  good or bad.'

'How did you come to that conclusion?' Harry asked, slightly bewildered, and not sure if he agreed or not.

'Because you seem so fundamentally good yourself,' Spinks said simply, 'and must recognise it in your fellow man.' Harry felt a slight heat in his face, but hid it by studying the papers on his desk with sudden interest.

'So, you think I see that you are good, and thereby know you wouldn't cheat me?'

'Perhaps,' Spinks said with a small smile. 'I have known you only a short while after all.' Harry lifted his gaze determinately and studied his valet with probing eyes.

'Are you trying to say something more, Spinks?' he asked.

'Not at all, Sir. I wouldn't be speaking candidly then, would I?'

'You said I wouldn't know if someone was being truthful with me, but isn't being truthful part of being good?' For half a second, the same uncertain look passed Spinks' face, or perhaps it was a look of unease, Harry wasn't certain.

'That depends on the nature of the lie. Being untruthful does not necessary mean one is lying either.'

'Lying by omission? A white lie, something like that?'

'Yes, something like that, but I meant no offence. I am sure no man could cheat you, Sir.'

'I sincerely hope so,' Harry said with a smile to show he was not offended. He hated to think that Spinks would be worried about offending him.

'I once knew a man that had the same ability, though your personalities are nothing alike. He could detect a lie better than truth serum.'

'Sounds like a formidable adversary.'

'Indeed, will that be all, Sir?' Harry could tell Spinks did not want to talk further.

'Yes, thank you, Spinks.'

DHDHDHDHDH

Draco's brows were furrowed as he worked. He did not understand why he had told Harry that about  _him_ , or even if it was true. Harry seemed to Draco entirely too trusting, and yet some instinct told Draco that the new Lord Potter was not to be trifled with. Some inner power seemed to radiate from him, even through his nervousness and slight clumsiness. What was a good person? Draco wasn't sure he knew, and he certainly didn't know if he was one. Lying by omission? Bending the truth? These were things that were entirely necessary and not good or bad in Draco's world.

Harry Potter seemed… above all that. Draco shook his head; where were his thoughts taking him? He hadn't known the man two full days. Harry Potter was simply a gentle soul who was lost in this new world of riches he had suddenly stumbled into. There was nothing special about him. Draco would serve him, nothing more.

Of course there was a time when Draco would have abhorred the very idea of serving anybody, but there was no point in thinking about those times… they only brought back awful memories.

Why had he mentioned Severus Snape to Harry? And so casually at that, as if they had merely been acquaintances? It seemed a betrayal, and Draco vowed to not even think of the man's name from then on. He was living another life now, and needed to resign himself to that fact once and for all.

* * *

_Chapter 4: A certain event designed to aggravate the new Lord Potter_

The next week passed with such ease and comfort Harry was amazed. He had not truly known how much a valet would help him. Not only did Spinks seem to anticipate every need before Harry even thought it, the young man also laid out outfits that suited Harry's person and every engagement much better. All his friends remarked on this improvement, and Harry sent along the compliment to Spinks, who merely raised an eyebrow and gave a little bow of the head. Harry had come to secretly enjoy that look; it conveyed a surprise and gratefulness that Harry fancied only he could see, as with all of Spinks' deep emotions, so tightly bottled up.

Madam McGonagall told him one day how like a Lord he was beginning to look, and that she had been mistaken about Spinks. She still managed to get in a subtle enquiry on the man's potion abilities. Harry told her succinctly that he had no intention of asking.

With the comfort he now experienced at home, Harry no longer felt so lost when out and about. Spinks seemed to recognise the signs of nervousness very easily, and was always ready with soft-spoken advice on how to handle a lunch or a dinner, or how to answer correspondence. Still, his impromptu lessons in etiquette did not stop him from feeling distinctly ill at ease when Aunt Minnie refused to let him back out of going to the annual Godric's House fundraising ball. Everyone who was anyone was going to be there, and now Harry was one of them, not to mention he was once a student of the House.

Having received this news during tea with Minnie, Harry went directly from her townhouse to the pub he knew his friend Ronald Weasley frequented, not far from the Ministry. It did not take long for Ron to insist that a Lord shouldn't be seen in such a place, and that it would be prudent if Harry got them both in at the Club.

xxx

Draco was dusting the shelves in the library. Or rather, he was holding a feather duster as an excuse while scanning the titles of certain books. He wondered how long it would take Harry to discover the types of volumes there were to be found in the higher shelves. When Draco could resist the teasing titles no longer he took one out, holding the duster under his arm, and had to turn the book sideways to try and understand the drawing.

'Good Lord, I've never done that before,' he murmured, his voice laced with equal wonder and alarm. Just then the bell rang and he nearly toppled off the ladder he was standing on, but managed to grab hold of the rung above his head, though the duster was not too lucky.

Quickly putting things to rights, Draco hurried to the door, only to be even more astonished at the sight of Ronald Weasley and a half-conscious Harry, the latter leaning heavily on the former.

'Poor Harry,' Ron declared. 'Never could hold his drink.' Without another word he barrelled past Draco and dragged Harry up the stairs. Draco checked up and down the street, saw no one, and hurried after the redhead.

'You'll take it from here, yeah?' Weasley pronounced after dumping his friend in bed.

'Indeed,' Draco murmured.

'He told me you make brilliant hangover potions… you don't suppose…?'

'I'm afraid I don't have any ready-made at the moment, Sir. You will have to come back tomorrow.'

'Nah, if I have to get up then it sort of defeats the point, don't it?' Ron answered, having clearly lost sight of sobriety hours ago. He gave a clumsy sort of salute to his friend, who was face down in the bed, and hobbled out of the room. Draco waited until he heard the closing of the front door, and then moved to the bed, shaking his head.

He got Harry turned around, but not without waking the drunken man. Harry blinked rapidly, looking around with a childlike curiosity before focusing, or trying to focus, on Draco.

''Lo,' he said. 'I was just…'

'At the Club?' Draco finished with a raised eyebrow, and was nonplussed at the odd smile he received in return.

'Yes… I didn't- I did not mean to drink,' Harry said, very seriously, and then he grew forlorn. 'Only Neville didn't have any money.'

'And why should Sir Longbottom's financial state cause you to drink?' Draco asked, hauling Harry to a sitting position and pulling off his robe and vest, and then untying his necktie.

'Well, I told him that I'd buy him a few rounds, only then Seamus… Seamus Finnigan, he said-' Draco got the tie loose and started unbuttoning Harry's shirt. 'He asked why I was favouring Neville so much tonight, and if we had a secret together, and I said that's ridiculous and Ron said we were best friends and Seamus asked if I wasn't friends with all of them and I said of course-'

Draco, exasperated, got the shirt off, pushed Harry back down, and set to work on his shoes and trousers.

'So I decided to buy them all a round… and six rounds later I was out of galleons, and Seamus wanted me to go to the… the…'

'Bank?' Draco supplied as he pulled the socks off, leaving Harry in only his underwear. The valet went to the armoire and got a long linen nightshirt. He wondered if he should even bother with trying to get it on.

'Yes, the  _bank,'_  Harry stated, as if he had just found out what a peculiar name that institution had. 'But I said I had to get home, since you were probably waiting for me, and Seamus asked if you were my valet or my wife and I-… oh, dear.' The abrupt change in tone caused Draco to focus on Harry's face, rather than his chest, thoughts on nightshirts having long since vanished.

'What?'

'I think I might have punched him!' Harry said, his hand going up to cover his mouth.

'Why would you punch him over something so trivial?' Draco asked, though he did think it was a fairly poor joke, not at all funny, really.

'I don't know,' Harry said, a giggle escaping him. 'It seemed a very cruel thing to say at the time. Now it's rather funny. I mean, you, my wife!' He dissolved into a fit of giggles while Draco rolled his eyes.

'I trust you will be able to fall asleep on your own, Sir. I will leave the nightshirt here for you.' Draco placed the nightshirt on the bedside table. Harry nodded several times, smiling at Draco oddly again, and then his head fell back. He gave a loud snore and Draco, shaking his head again, tucked the man in as best he could, and went downstairs to prepare a hangover potion for the morning.

xxx

'I look ridiculous,' Harry groused, staring at his reflection. He felt stiff and pompously dressed in his fancy robes, and with his hair as its usual untameable self, the contrast made him look even more ludicrous.

'If I may, you look just as a Lord should, Sir,' Spinks countered, stepping between Harry and the mirror, working Harry's collar and necktie and straightening just about everything. The valet used tiny flicks of his wand to get every stray hair away, his eyes scanning the ensemble relentlessly.

'How do you know so much?' Harry asked, not quite able to determine if the question was rhetorical or not. 'About how to dress and how to act at these kinds of things?'

'It is my job, Sir,' Spinks replied, checking his work once again.

'Have you ever been to a ball?' Harry asked casually. He at once noticed how Spinks stiffened, though the only real evidence was a tightening of the jaw. Spinks continued to straighten things that were already straighter than Harry's wand.

'I don't believe I have ever had the pleasure, Sir.'

'I think it is downright crazy. You know all about events, soirees and balls, but you have never been to one? Why do any of us care about this sort of thing? How to look, how to dress, how to speak. Would not the world be so much simpler, and more pleasurable, if we dropped all the… pretences?'

Spinks' gaze met Harry's and the latter saw that his valet thought him quite insane, though that was, in fact, not the case. He blushed and looked away stiffly.

'I quite agree, Sir,' Spinks said softly, causing Harry to turn back and blink. 'But I am afraid you must still attend Madam McGonagall's ball.' The last was said teasingly, and Harry could not keep his smile in.

'Alright, I get your meaning, Spinks,' he said with an air of defeat. 'And so? Do I look presentable?'

'Not quite, Sir.'

'Oh?'

'The hair, Sir.'

'Oh.'

'Indeed, Sir.' Harry sent Spinks a slightly worried look. He had had many a bad experience with people trying to tame his hair.

'What are you going to do?'

'If you would sit down, on the bed, I will be right back, Sir.' Harry did as he was told, and soon Spinks had returned with a bottle of some unidentified content. He poured some on Harry's head and the man winced as he felt the coldness.

'Much better,' Spinks pronounced, standing to the side and allowing Harry to see himself in the mirror.

'Oh, my.' Harry's hair was indeed tamed. It was flat and  _shiny_  and arranged in the same way Harry had seen Neville and other young aristocrats wear it at the Club. 'I look…'

'You look like Lord Potter, Sir.'

'Yes, to be sure,' Harry agreed, rising and coming closer to the mirror. 'But I don't look like  _me_.'

'It's a ball, Sir,' Spinks replied evenly. 'No one looks like themselves. It is all about image. People will show you ten times more respect like this than if you went with your hair like-… like it usually is, Sir.'

'I guess,' Harry said with a sigh. 'I… I better get going.' They both went downstairs and Draco led his Lord outside when the chaise arrived – seemingly pulled by nothing. He watched the young man ride away before going back inside. Closing the door carefully behind him, he remained in the hallway for a long moment.

For some reason Draco regretted deeply having changed Harry's hair. Which was absolutely absurd, because it was just hair.

Harry was the most… genuine person Draco had ever met, and the most humble, unassuming Lord, no doubt. When Draco had first decided to apply for the position, he had been a little reluctant to serve someone who was effectively "new money," even though Harry had inherited his.

Almost immediately, however, Draco had discovered that his new master was quite different from his previous ones, different from anyone he had ever met. And now he felt distinctly guilty for lying to someone so honest. Lying about something as trivial as having attended a ball…

With a sigh Draco pushed off the wall and headed off to clean something. Strangely enough, the former spoiled child had come to appreciate how manual labour could clear one's head. That improvement to his character, however, was overshadowed by his conclusion that the more time he spent with Harry, the less he thought of his own character.

xxx

Harry circled the room, occasionally taking a sip of his champagne, and surreptitiously looking for an escape route, though he knew he could not actually escape.

For some reason Harry was unable to get his valet out of his mind. He kept analyzing and re-analyzing Spinks' every expression and word, though he failed to analyze his own reasons for this preoccupation.

'Harry, dear, come with me, there is someone I want you to meet.' Harry almost spilled some of his drink, but managed to smile tightly at his former teacher.

'Who might that be?' he asked as respectfully as he could, trying to hide his reluctance to gain even one more acquaintance in this lifetime.

Aunt Minnie grabbed his arm and started steering him through the crowd. The main dining hall of Godric's House had been transformed into a stunningly decorated ballroom. The usually bare stonewalls were hung with golden draperies, with shades of purple and bronze. Candelabras floated above the crowd, and grandiose chandeliers gave the extra light needed. A band stood at the far end where the staff usually sat, playing soft music people danced to. Harry thought the whole spectacle both beautiful and ugly, paradoxically enough.

The people were dressed in clothes more expensive than the upkeep of one orphan for an entire year, their ringing laughter probably permeating through to the children who slept upstairs. The House would get donations that night, surely, and the setting was beautiful, if a little gaudy, but Harry felt as if he was still a student here, and had simply stumbled in on the scene, becoming numb at the sight of the spectacle.

'Harry, allow me to introduce Madam Umbridge,' Aunt Minnie suddenly pronounced. Harry tried to tune out the other sounds, and focus on a toad of a woman. Her outfit was pure pink, and her smile was utterly insincere. 'Madam Umbridge, Lord Potter.' Umbridge extended her short arm and Harry realised she wanted him to take her hand and kiss it. Feeling like he was touching something unclean, he took the hand gracefully and held it up to his lips, but did not kiss it.

'A pleasure, Madam.' he murmured, mentally thanking Spinks for all his tips.

'The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,' Umbridge replied in a sugary sweet tone. 'Minnie has told me all about you!' Harry wondered how long the two women had known each other; even if it had been years one should not address someone so informally at a function like this. Umbridge seemed oblivious to her faux pas, and carried blithely on.

'I have been telling Minnie about my daughter Deborah, she's such a lovely girl, and we agreed you should meet! There is nothing more exciting than good, young people meeting and getting acquainted.' Harry had some difficulty finding the meaning in the woman's string of words, but once he did, he found himself looking for that escape route again.

'Yes, I quite agree, Madam Umbridge,' Aunt Minnie said, stressing the name rather darkly. She smiled encouragingly at Harry. 'I have a feeling they would get along splendidly.' She turned back to the pink woman. 'What a pity she could not come tonight.'

'Yes, well, she was feeling faint this morning and I had a Healer visit her, and he advised her to rest.'

'In my experience "resting" is all Healers ever advise,' Aunt Minnie declared with a good deal of humour. 'I would much rather recommend a Potions Master, for at least they have remedies that work and are fresh, and they almost always know just as much about the human body, at least the good ones.'

'A potion maker?' Umbridge exclaimed giving a shrill laugh that hurt Harry's ears. 'My dear Minnie, potion makers are confidence men, one and all,' she said in a matter-of-fact tone. 'They will take your money and give you water coloured with ink.' Harry could tell by the pursing of Minnie's lips that she did not appreciate Umbridge's views on the subject, and nor did Harry, who was highly offended on behalf of a certain person in his employ.

'I must beg you to excuse me,' Harry murmured, needing to get away.

'Oh, certainly-' Harry did not hear the rest of Umbridge's speech, but quickly slipped away and found a corner of the room to rest in.

Hours later Minnie found him again, taking his arm and leaning in to speak to him more privately.

'Dear, I know Umbridge can be rather… tactless, but I am more than certain your acquaintance with her daughter will be… fruitful.'

'What exactly are you planning?' Harry asked, needing a straight answer once during the course of the evening. Aunt Minnie sighed, as if the act of speaking plainly was very bothersome.

'I mean of course that you should be married!' Harry looked away to keep his emotions from being discovered. He could not believe this! 'The Umbridges have rising political influence, and Miss Umbridge will get a high job in the Ministry in no time at all. And since you have no taste for bureaucracy, you are a perfect match!'

'Aunt Minnie, I really have no intention of marrying-'

'Every young man says that, and almost all of them are proven wrong within a year. A Lord cannot remain a bachelor, Harry. You need to select a good wife; the more power the better, to regain the influence the Potter's lost when your late grandfather died. No one will take you seriously again if you do not.'

'But-' Aunt Minnie fixed him with a stern and intense look, one that had never failed to leave Harry quite powerless.

'I do not do this for all my students, Harry,' she said with that soft, yet resolute voice of hers, her eyes burning into Harry's. 'You are special, and I only want what's best for you. This is best. I raised you as best I could, so I know you will do the right thing and meet the Umbridges again at my home for tea next Thursday. Is that clear?'

'Yes, of- of course, Madam,' Harry stammered out, feeling sweat droplets on his forehead, and all ten years old again.

'You know you must call me Aunt Minnie, dearest,' Minnie said, and then she leaned in swiftly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, before she was gone in a twirl of her robes. Harry was left speechless and utterly dumbfounded. How did he get himself into these kinds of situations? He wanted nothing more than to go home and ask Spinks what to do.

* * *

_Chapter 5: How to scare off potential "suitoresses"_

Harry woke slowly, peacefully, to the softness that was his bed, and for this short moment of bliss he was totally ignorant of the events of last night. Stretching like a cat, making a sound that was not far from a purr, he sighed at the end and started sitting up when he heard his valet on the stairs. By the time Spinks had entered, however, carrying the breakfast tray, the pink woman and Aunt Minnie's machinations were again vivid in Harry's mind.

'How are you this morning, Sir?' Spinks asked, as was now his wont, while arranging the tray across Harry's lap. It was the usual delicious assortment, with toast, bacon, eggs, fresh fruit, pumpkin juice, tea, and a sweet-smelling flower in a thin crystal vase. 'Is there something wrong?' Spinks pressed, no doubt seeing the way Harry stared with an empty gaze at his meal.

'Oh, no, nothing really,' Harry said, unable to hide his true mood at all, lifting his gaze to his valet. 'I'm fine, thank you Spinks.'

'Sir…' Spinks began; he looked uncertain of whether he should press further. Harry secretly wished him to, for he wanted to confide in someone, but thought it ill mannered to simply start raving and ranting at his servant. Luckily for him, Spinks finally decided to continue with his line of questioning. 'If there is something bothering you, you may tell me if you wish. I will keep anything you say to me in the strictest of confidences. Did something happen last night perhaps?'

'Yes,' Harry said on a sigh. 'It's my Aunt Minnie, Madam McGonagall I mean, she wants me to… marry.' The last word came out very reluctantly; sour on Harry's tongue.

'I see,' Spinks said in his normal neutral tone. Harry frowned at him.

'She wants me to marry the daughter of a…  _toad_  of a woman, who, during our very first conversation, not only slighted Aunt Minnie - though she managed not to take offence - but insulted you, as well!'

'How could the lady in question manage all that, when she hasn't even met me?'

'Well, she didn't insult  _you_  personally, I suppose,' Harry admitted, looking away. 'But she declared all  _potion makers_  to be con men!' Harry closed his eyes and breathed, trying not to get himself angry. It would do nobody any good, and he did not want Spinks to see his darker side. He had vowed in his younger days that he would control his anger when in the company of others.

'If it helps any, Sir, I take no offence, since I am not a Potions Master. And there are many people who feel the same as the lady. Personally, I think it is because of the improvement in preserving charms, making it easier for people to buy potions in shops, and therefore removing direct contact with Potion Masters. It is unfortunate that many of the potions sold in such shops are not, in fact, made by Masters. These days it is most common for a Potions Master to stay in the employ of a single, or a handful, of richer families.'

Harry processed this speech, finding the drum of Spinks' voice soothing. It calmed him quickly and efficiently, and provided useful information.

'Yes,' he said, finally opening his eyes. 'I suppose you are right. You are the one who knows of such things. I should not have gotten angry.' Harry took a sip of his juice to help his parched throat. Spinks still lingered and Harry was glad for this. His presence as well, it seemed, was comforting.

'May I ask the name of the daughter in question?'

'Oh, Umbridge. Deborah Umbridge, daughter of Madam Dolores Umbridge. I don't know her husband.'

'Did you meet the daughter?'

'No, but I have to on Thursday. Aunt Minnie insisted I come for tea,' Harry said morosely.

'Try and eat for breakfast, Sir, it will improve your mood. I am sure she will be more charming than her mother. Most young ladies are.' With that Spinks gave a little bow and Harry thanked him. Left alone, Harry pondered his predicament, but could find no solution. It seemed he was destined to be married unless he wanted to run away and hide from Madam McGonagall for the rest of his life.

xxx

After delivering Harry's breakfast Draco marched silently downstairs, his face completely blank as usual, and went into the empty kitchen. He stood there, very still, for a long time. An observer of the young man might have thought Draco to be lost or in some sort of trance.

'Stop it,' Draco suddenly muttered. 'There is absolutely no reason to be this upset.' He went to the counter and started cleaning up whatever he could find. 'I am not upset,' he told himself. 'I'm not.'

In truth, he was. He had admitted to his immediate attraction to Harry, and his growing respect and fondness, but he still believed there was no reason for him to care one way or the other if Harry got married. 'I hope he's very happy with Deborah… even though she has an ugly name.'

Draco's musings on his attraction towards Harry made him remind himself of the views on homosexuality the majority of the wizarding world held. He knew very well that most people would not deem his attraction appropriate. He had read a pamphlet once on the history of homosexuality in the wizarding world:

During the period which muggles call Ancient Greece, the wizarding community was much larger and yet easier to hide from the muggles. They also shared the idea that the love between two men could be pure and good; indeed scholars still speculate if these ideas spread from one world to the other, though which way it went is a hotly debated topic.

As the centuries passed, the wizarding world's numbers became depleted due to the increasingly popular beliefs held by purebloods. This, in turn, has led to the idea that homosexuals are effectively going against their community, and some fanatics go even further, insisting that these witches and wizards want the magical world to die out. Although witches and wizards who hold these opinions are from all walks of life, these ideas have not yet permeated the judicial institutions. This means that although homosexuals can be looked on with anything from disgust to mild disrespect, they will not experience legal sanctions. A skilled politician of great influence, however, could easily destroy his opponent if his sexuality were discovered as "subversive".

So while Draco himself felt no qualms about admitting to himself that he was attracted to males, he knew that were Harry or anyone else to discover this fact, he would most likely be fired on the spot, and probably not be able to get another job, at least in England.

Draco sighed when he realised he had been scrubbing, by hand, the same spot for ten minutes. He shook his head at himself. 'What am I doing?' He felt a sliver of distress seep into him when he realised he had no idea.

xxx

'What an insufferable woman!' Harry raged, slamming the door behind him with no thought to the neighbours or anyone within earshot. He almost ripped his raincoat when he pulled it off, and could not be bothered to even hang it up. He was frustrated, dismayed… and angry.

'Did you have a nice tea, Sir?' Spinks asked, coming quickly and quietly down the stairs.

'No, I did bloody well not have a nice tea!' Harry snapped, tugging on his gloves and becoming even more agitated when he failed to get them off. 'So you can keep your sarcasm to yourself.'

'Forgive me…' Spinks trailed off, now simply watching Harry do battle with his gloves. The young Lord gave a very ungentleman-like growl. Spinks finally stepped forward and took hold of Harry's hands. 'Take a breath, Sir,' he murmured, slowly pulling off both gloves, one finger at a time.

'I'm sorry, Spinks,' Harry said, feeling immediately guilty over his horrible outbursts.

'Think nothing of it, Sir,' Spinks said, he glanced up at Harry and the tiny smile he cast caused Harry's heart to lighten to a feather, and his anger completely evaporated. There was a tingling in his fingers where Spinks touched him. 'I take it tea with the Umbridges was not a success?'

'That depends entirely on who you ask, I'm afraid,' Harry said with deep foreboding. He thanked Spinks for taking his gloves and picking up his coat, and then he led the way into the library, which he was now spending considerable time in. He went straight to the carafe of firewhiskey and poured himself a tumbler, taking it all in one gulp before pouring another. Seeing that Spinks had followed him, Harry allowed himself to share his troubles.

'The daughter did not attend,' he told his valet and confidant. 'It was just me, Minnie and Dolores Umbridge. I could tell Aunt Minnie frequently disagreed with the woman, and that she was more than once offended, but she has gotten it into her mind that I must marry Miss Umbridge or else my reputation will be ruined.'

'And is that something you believe, or… are concerned about?' Harry sighed and went to his desk. He took a brief moment to savour the fact that he now considered it wholly his own desk, in his study and library, in his home. It was still a novel idea to him, but the presence of Spinks seemed to have sped up the process.

'No, I do not believe my reputation will be ruined unless I marry within the year, and nor do I care if it is,' Harry declared, looking up and meeting Spinks' gaze defiantly. It felt good to finally say out loud what he had held within him through the entire visit at Aunt Minnie's.

'Then may I say, Sir,' Spinks said, coming forward to stand in front of the desk. 'That I admire you for that.' Harry blinked, and the silence that followed somehow caused heat to rise in his cheeks.

'I-, Thank you, Spinks,' Harry said as sincerely as he could, fighting the blush.

'So, did you tell Madam McGonagall that?' Harry's face went from pink to red and he broke eye contact.

'No,' he admitted. 'I could not tell her. I feel I owe her so much. She only wants what's best for me… She arranged for me to have Mr and Mrs Umbridge over for dinner this Saturday.' Harry glanced guiltily back at Spinks. 'Sorry, I couldn't get out of it.'

'I quite understand, Sir,' Spinks said in his neutral tone, but Harry lamented the loss of respect he perceived in his valet's eyes, though this was not a fact. 'I shall make sure the dinner is perfect… Will that be all, Sir?'

'Erm-… yes, I suppose, thank you, Spinks.' The man gave a little bow and left Harry, who decided he needed a lot more firewhiskey before the day was over.

xxx

Draco had been scrubbing and cleaning by hand all evening, even making Harry's entire meal by hand, but still he could not get his emotions out of him. He could not even identify all of them.

His respect for his master had risen to new heights when Harry had declared he did not care for his reputation. Perhaps it was because of his own desperate attempts to protect his own. It seemed like such an important thing; at least it had, years ago. Now he wasn't so sure. Harry didn't seem to care about anything a Lord should, and Draco found himself admiring that very much.

Then there were the Umbridges… Draco wanted to make sure he made the perfect dinner for them… so it was absolutely necessary to do a little research on them. The very next day Draco decided to make a few detours while at the market, and see what gossip he could dig up…

xxx

Harry's hair was once again flattened, his robes pressed, his tie perfect, and his posture stiff. He tried not to fidget, as Spinks had warned against it, and kept clearing his throat. All his efforts, however, seemed to go unnoticed by the pair who had just been led into the sitting room by Spinks.

Mr. Umbridge was everything Mrs. Umbridge wasn't. He was long and thin, with a sickly pale complexion. He wore grey robes and a floppy wizard hat, the tip of which hung down past his left ear. He had a monocle that seemed to be glued to his right eye, the chain going into his front pocket. His hair was short and grey, with a matching moustache, floppy and dead looking as well.

Mrs. Umbridge, coming forward with a wide smile, wore her usual pink robes, her cheeks coloured with rouge. 'Lord Potter,' she declared. 'May I introduce my husband? I have been so looking forward to your meeting.' Harry stiffly shook hands with the man, feeling acutely ill at ease. The man gave absolutely no indication that he thought anything odd about the situation. He could have been meeting with any wizard in the world, let alone the man intended for his daughter.

After some mindless chitchat, most of which was supplied by Mrs. Umbridge, they were told dinner was ready. As they sat down the witch leaned in curiously.

'Do you have only the one male servant?'

'Just my valet, yes,' Harry answered, glancing at Mr. Umbridge, who seemed content to inspect the silverware like a child would. 'He is more than enough for a bachelor, I dare say.'

'I meant to ask, of course, if you had any house-elves?'

'Oh, no-'

'Why on earth is that? Surely an old family such as the Potters would have a whole family of house-elves!'

'The last Potter elf died with my grandfather.'

'He didn't breed more?'

'No, I suppose he didn't consider it in his old age… though I can't claim to know the late Lord Potter's mind-'

'Very odd,' Madam Umbridge declared, pursing her lips with distaste. 'As the head of the family he should have made sure the future generation would receive the same service.'

'Perhaps he was against the slavery of house-elves-' Harry was about to suggest, but Umbridge barrelled on.

'I cannot imagine what he was thinking. A family like the Potters without a single house-elf.' She said this as if it was a great tragedy. Harry sighed and let her talk. A small part of his mind wondered if the late Lord Potter had simply forgotten about the blasted house-elves. He had heard a rumour that the man had been rather senile in his old age, and that was the nicest of the rumours.

Spinks brought in the main course after Harry had enjoyed the first, and endured Umbridge for over half an hour already. The witch sniffed at the food as if she smelled something foul. Harry frowned at her.

'Is this…  _pork_?' she asked. Harry blinked, looked down at his plate and then back at the woman.

'I believe so…'

'Oh,' her voice was heavy with disappointment. 'Mr. Umbridge and I believe pigs to be very unsanitary creatures, and very  _muggle_ … though I'm sure this meal will be delicious.' She was entirely insincere, and only picked at the food while gossiping and chatting inanely. Mr. Umbridge didn't seem to have any huge qualms about eating the food, and Harry thought the dish was scrumptious, though he had no idea how Spinks had made it, or what he had put in it. Harry allowed his mind to drift as Umbridge talked and found himself wanting to know more about cooking, or rather he wanted to see how Spinks cooked. It was such a ridiculous thought Harry blushed when he realised he had been imagining himself in the kitchen with Spinks, laughing while tasting their creations together. Lords should not concern themselves with the making of food; even Harry knew that.

'What was that?'

'What?' Harry pulled himself out of his reverie. There was a scratching noise and a distinctive meow. It sounded like it was coming from the library.

'Do you have a cat?' Mrs. Umbridge demanded to know, her voice rising to a horrible screech. Mr. Umbridge's eye had gone wide, and he became restless in his chair.

'No,' Harry said, glancing behind him when he heard more noises. 'It must be the neighbour's.'

'That is not coming from the neighbour's!' Both Umbridges rose abruptly from their chairs when a loud meow was heard. 'I will not remain in a house that harbours such horrid creatures!' Umbridge declared.

'I swear I do not own a cat,' Harry assured them helplessly, not understanding anything. The pair was headed for the door. 'Wait! Let me show you.' He walked to the door leading to the study and opened it. A flash of fur brushed his legs and Madam Umbridge shrieked. The cat ran right through the dining room and into the hallway. Harry didn't know where it disappeared to; he was too busy hurrying after the Umbridges.

'I hate cats!' Umbridge cried as she struggled with her coat. Mr. Umbridge was already holding the door open. 'My daughter will not marry into a house that has no house-elves, serves pork for dinner and is infested with cats!' Harry watched, with gaping mouth, as the pair stormed out.

'What on earth?' Harry asked no one in particular. He shook his head in disbelief. He had known before that the woman was ridiculous, but this…

'Did something happen, Sir?' Harry turned to find Spinks standing completely inconspicuous by the stairs.

'Yes… do I, by any chance, own a cat?'

'Ah, I am afraid I found a poor stray with a broken paw. I took it in to heal it with a potion. I am terribly sorry, I should have asked.'

Harry stood observing his valet for a long moment. Though Spinks' expression remained completely blank, Harry felt he could read a slight playfulness, or perhaps naughtiness, in his eyes.

'Did you know the Umbridges had an aversion to cats?'

'Why I had no idea, Sir.' Now Harry was sure he heard some smugness in the man's voice, and he found a smile tugging at his lips.

'And the dinner?'

'Did they not like it?' Harry snorted and shook his head, feeling relief wash over him as he realised he did not care one wit whether the Umbridges liked cats or not.

'Thank you, Spinks,' he said sincerely, 'that will be all, for now.'

xxx

Luckily for Harry, his Aunt Minnie finally gave up her acquaintance with Madam Umbridge upon being informed of the woman's intolerance for the animal that happened to be Minnie's animagus form. Harry was off the hook, at least for the moment.

_Chapter 6: Escaping to the Country_

'Ah!' the sound forced its way out of Draco's throat. The young valet was thrashing in his sleep, sweating enough to soak the sheets. It wasn't until Draco unconsciously grabbed at his own member that his eyes snapped open and he found himself alone in his moonlit bedroom, and not underneath the commanding presence of Lord Potter.

Waking up sweaty and stiff was becoming mighty tiresome. Draco recognised the signs of infatuation and knew this was not a favourable development. This did not stop him from indulging before he had to get up and prepare Harry's morning meal.

As he meticulously prepared everything Harry liked, Draco's mind wandered back to last night and the incident with the Umbridges. His plan had been dangerous and downright reckless. He had not even been entirely sure Harry wanted to get out of the marriage. In fact he had been sure Harry would explode and fire him on the spot. Harry, once again, had surprised him. 'Thank you,' he had said. Draco had tingled all over at the words and the emotions he had espied in those green orbs.

Once again, his feelings for Harry had intensified, though their exact nature still eluded Draco's conscious mind.

Having finished the meal, Draco went into the storage room and picked a single flower from the bouquet he kept there, placing it in the crystal vase. He carefully lifted the tray and headed upstairs.

When he entered the bedroom, however, he discovered it to be empty. Draco frowned deeply; worry sneaking into his heart instantly. He hurried downstairs again and set the tray on a table in the hallway before going in search of his master.

The logical place to look was the library, and Draco headed straight for it. He opened the door without knocking, too worried about Harry to think about proper etiquette.

Harry was standing on the ladder fixed to slide along a rail at the top of the high shelves. His head was buried in a large book. Upon hearing Draco's entrance his head snapped up and the book slipped out of his hands, thumping to the floor.

'Spinks!' Harry cried in surprise. 'Eh- what. Ah, you're… up early.'

'Actually, I'm right on time,' Draco said, coming forward and picking up the book curiously.

'No!' Harry cried, but it was too late. Draco had already recognised the book. It was one of  _those_ : filled with numerous graphic images drawn by an artist from the 17th century. A legendary wizarding club, whose activities had always been steeped in vulgar rumours, had published it, along with countless other books found in this very library. It was for all intents and purposes a sex club, and Draco had no doubt that it had existed and still did, and he also suspected the late Lord Potter had either been a member, or at least a collector of the artefacts from the mythical society.

'I- I just found it. I wasn't reading it,' Harry stuttered. Draco found his eyebrows rising of their own accord, even though he knew he shouldn't look at his employer with such an expression. He knew the book contained sexual activities of a homosexual nature. He gave a cursory glance around the rest of the room. Harry had obviously been at it for quite some time. The desk was covered with several volumes of ill repute.

'What you decide to read is certainly none of my business, Sir,' Draco said neutrally, going over to the desk and tidying up a bit. He stopped himself when he realised Harry was still glued to the ladder and that perhaps he was too embarrassed to come down. 'Shall I bring breakfast in here?'

Harry had a heavy blush in his cheeks and Draco found it endearing against his will. The young Lord Potter opened his mouth several times to respond, but all he managed was a nod. Draco returned it and strode quickly to the door.

When he came back with the tray Harry had seated himself behind the desk and was trying to stack the books to the side. Some of them he had already put back in the shelves. Draco came forward and placed the tray in front of his master.

'If I may comment, Sir,' Draco said slowly, thinking of ways to ease Harry's obvious discomfort. 'The library is rather poorly organised. Perhaps you would like me to place all the documents pertaining to certain subjects somewhere they would be less noticeable to any gentlemen friends visiting.' Harry kept his eyes on the breakfast and Draco could not tell if his words were having any affect.

Figuring "in for a knut, in for a galleon," Draco continued: 'Research of this nature, after all, isn't always appreciated by the more conservative wizards.' This made Harry finally look up.

'Research…?'

'Well, I can only assume that is the purpose of such a collection. Forgive me, I scanned the titles when I last dusted.'

'Yes, well… I was just…' Harry struggled with words.

'Curious?' Draco supplied. Harry blushed, but nodded. 'Well, it is a very comprehensive collection, more than worthy of study.'

'Worthy of study? Surely, proper gentlemen shouldn't even be looking-…' Harry's protests died away as his embarrassment overrode everything else. He looked away and gave a huff annoyance, most likely at himself. Draco sighed. He wished he could just say what he thought without fear. Then, slowly, he realised something. Harry was the most honest and open person he knew, and he deserved the same from Draco, damn the consequences.

'May I speak frankly, Sir?' he asked. Harry met his eyes. Draco saw open curiosity in them, along with desperation.

'Of course, you know how I feel about that.' Draco took a step forward, standing right in front of the desk.

'These books...' he began, gesturing to the stack and shelves. Harry's blush returned slightly. 'They describe and depict things most wizards and witches will insist is abnormal… but in my opinion that is simply not true.'

'Perhaps there is such a thing as too much frankness…' Harry mumbled, staring at his desk.

'What people do in the comfort of their own home is up to them,' Draco insisted, gaining momentum now that Harry hadn't immediately protested and sent him packing. 'There was a time in both the wizarding and muggle worlds when the love between two men was considered the highest love. So, in my honest opinion, I see any views on this matter as an expression of taste and fashions, and not a moral stance at all.' Draco took a breath. 'I shall leave you to your breakfast now. I hope I have not offended you. It is… simply how I see things. If you wish to study these texts for scholarly, or personal reasons, then that is your business. Not mine. And so, I leave you.' Draco bowed properly and silently left the room, closing the door as softly as possible behind him.

He tried to control his breathing as he went back to the kitchen. Had he really just told his employer all that? He felt rather faint. What on earth had been thinking? What was Harry thinking at that moment?

xxx

Harry was completely stunned by his valet's speech. For a long moment he didn't know what to think. He had never seen Spinks so animated. It had… moved him. The words themselves had opened Harry's eyes.

Last night the young Lord had been unable to sleep and so had gone down to find something new to read. What he had found had been surprising, to say the least.

Now, it had to be said, Harry had never really seen the great appeal about women, but neither had he considered that there existed an alternative. The images in the books, however, had a very mental and physical affect on him. He had been so absorbed in his discoveries he had not reflected on their implications, nor had he kept track of the time.

Absolute mortification was not an adequate description of his reaction to Spinks finding him. He had realised what exactly he had been doing: looking at sexual activities between wizards! He knew very well what his Aunt Minnie would say to that.

But Spinks hadn't said any of those things, and neither had he left on the spot, too disgusted to stay in the employ of a man who read about such things. He had said… well, what exactly had he said? That such things were normal? Personal? Nobody's business than his own… Did Harry believe that? He certainly wanted to.

One thing was clear: Spinks had been honest with him, and gone out on a limb, considering the delicate nature of the subject matter. Harry found himself admiring Spinks' courage and forthrightness. He had tried his best to calm Harry and ease his embarrassment.

Harry stood with a determined air and followed Spinks, finding himself in the kitchen, a place he had not been in more than a couple of times. His valet was standing by the counter, griping it tightly, with a bowed head.

'Sp-… Draco?' The blond spun around, clearly caught unawares. Harry had never seen the man so out-of-character. His eyes were slightly wild.

'Yes, Sir? Something-. Is there something I can do for you?'

'I just want to thank you, for everything,' Harry told him, looking deep into those grey eyes. They were really quite expressive when you knew what to look for. 'You've become more than just my valet. You've become my confidant, and what you said just now was not only honest, but very… very good of you. I'm not exactly sure why I was looking at those books, but you didn't pass judgement, for which I am grateful…' Harry took a breath and a step forward. As always his emotions were shining through his eyes and body language.

'I wish… I hope we can be friends…?' he said softly. Draco, eyes wide, slowly shook his head and Harry's heart dropped. This was obvious in his face and Draco quickly stepped forward.

'Yes, yes, of course, I wish the same,' he assured Harry. 'I was just,' he shrugged, 'shaking my head in disbelief,' he chuckled. 'I have never met anyone like you.'

'Well, I have never met anyone like you,' Harry countered, smiling a little. Draco smiled back, a full smile the like of which Harry had never seen. It transformed Draco's face entirely, lighting up the room and Harry's heart and soul. He didn't understand how a smile could affect him so, but he liked it.

'Your breakfast will be cold now, Sir,' Draco said. 'Why don't I make a lovely fruit salad? Warming charms always dry the eggs I feel.' He walked over to the big bowl of fruit he had arranged on the kitchen table.

'Could I help?' Harry found himself asking, his mind going back to his strange fantasy during dinner with the Umbridges.

Draco blinked; 'If you want, Sir,' he said.

'I couldn't convince you to call me Harry while we're at home, could I?' Harry asked, coming over to Draco to pick out fruit.

'I'm afraid I really can't,' Draco said, though he was still smiling. 'But feel free to call me Draco.'

'That hardly seems fair.'

'Perhaps not, Sir, but I would prefer it that way unless you absolutely insist otherwise.'

'No, that's fine. I don't want to force you into anything.' Draco flashed him a grateful glance.

'I didn't think so, Sir.'

xxx

The next week was like an awakening for Harry and Draco both. Harry had lots of friends, some genuine and some, or perhaps most, not. His relationship with Draco, however, differed greatly from anything he had ever experienced. Draco was so observant, smart and cunning that he could anticipate all of Harry's needs, both material, emotional and even intellectual. They never again mentioned the books, and Harry, though he didn't feel the need to stop due to their content, gave up looking at them. He just didn't have the inclination to explore such subjects at the moment, and he was really much to busy conversing with Draco or out and about.

Draco had never really had any friends. His relationship with Harry was of course not the same as a completely equal friendship, but it was very rewarding all the same. Harry was a very curious and fearless person, eager to try anything Draco was willing to teach, even in the kitchen. Of course, when Harry had company they had to revert back to a more formal mode of conduct. When alone, however, they often had long conversations about all sorts of things, and even laughed, something Draco had not done in a long time.

Draco Spinks even found himself telling Harry a little about himself. He told Harry his father's best friend had been a Potions Master, and that was how he had gained his passion and knowledge of the craft. He couldn't tell Harry about his family's true name, though. That was something he could not share with anyone.

The cold spring was finally letting go and summer seemed to bloom almost overnight. Everything became bright and lush within a few weeks. Harry came home from an evening at the club, a happy smile on his face. Draco greeted him in the hallway, taking the light coat from him.

'Guess what, Draco,' Harry said with a mischievous smile.

'I wouldn't know where to begin, Sir,' Draco said, hanging up the coat.

'We are going to the country.'

'Oh? To whom have you been invited?'

'Mr. Chang. He's a rich banker and politician who owns a beautiful estate in Wiltshire.' Harry said this as he walked towards his library, and therefore did not see the flash of recognition in Draco's eyes. 'I've been speaking with him at the club, and his daughter was at Aunt Minnie's the other day. They're both really nice so I said yes. Apparently there's going to be a large party there. Miss Granger is invited too. Apparently she works is friends with Miss Chang.'

'Really?' Draco said, mentally asking  _A muggle-born at a wizarding country estate?'_ he thought _, 'and not just any country estate…'_

'Yes, along with several others.' Harry sat down behind his desk, smiling up at Draco. 'I think I could use a break from the city and formal functions. Everyone seems intent on me going into politics. A few weeks in the country is just what I need, and Mr. Chang assures me he likes to keep things fun and light.'

'Well, I think some fresh air will do us both good,' Draco said. 'Shall I get you some tea?'

'Oh, yes, thank you, Draco. That would be lovely.' Harry flashed him a last smile before picking up the stack of letters on his desk. Several owls had come during the day, most of them invitations to the functions Harry was desperate to escape.

It wasn't until Draco was alone in the kitchen he allowed his features to darken. His mind went back to his very early childhood, to a home he barely remembered. He had no doubt he would be able to recognise it, however, considering how easily he remembered the name of the man who had bought it.

'A few weeks in the country… just what I need.'

* * *

_Chapter 7: Old Friends and New_

'Merlin, look at this place!' Harry could not help but exclaim upon reaching their destination. They had taken a portkey provided by Mr Chang. It had deposited them right in front of a massive, old stone building. The fixtures and lavish ornamentations spoke of the wealth just as much as its size. Corinthian columns stood in a half circle out from the tall main doors, rising all the way up the two stories. In a normal house there would probably be three or even four stories, but the height of the ceilings prevented that.

The front steps mirrored the half circle of the columns and extended far out from the house. The grounds were unplottable and far from muggle dwellings, so Harry could see pretty extensive and well-kept grounds. The doors opened wide and Mr Chang came out personally. Harry walked halfway up the steps to meet his host.

'Welcome, welcome, Lord Potter!' Mr Chang wore the most fashionable of wizarding robes, impeccably tailored for his short frame. He was a man of wealth who did not need to show it off, but did so without conscious effort. Harry shook the man's hand warmly. Mr Chang appeared to Harry as one of the few rich wizards at the club who lacked the pretentious airs and nose-in-the-air manners, as he called them. Perhaps it was because he was not originally from Britain, and had felt how it was to be a stranger in a new world.

'Thank you,' Harry answered, smiling. 'I am honoured to have been invited.'

'Nonsense, it is I who am honoured,' Chang countered. His nose twitched, an odd habit he had whenever he was pleased or feeling mischievous. He glanced over Harry's shoulders. 'The servant entrance is round that corner,' he said to Draco, nodding in the right direction.

Harry and Draco had had a slight argument when Draco insisted Harry could not arrive carrying any of the bags, and had declared he was perfectly capable of controlling all three cases with one wand.

Draco gave a bow and went briskly round the corner. Harry, not having been born into a life with servants, felt a pang of injustice. Why was it necessary with a servants' entrance? But of course, he knew Mr Chang was not trying to be unkind. It was just the way it was.

Harry was ushered inside, and the young Lord could not seem to stop praising the fine house. Mr Chang was suitably modest, and kept repeating that he hadn't changed much since he bought it, apart from a few pieces of furniture here and there, and the paintings and statues of family members.

'May I ask, do you have only human servants?' enquired Mr Chang, in all politeness, as they wandered further into the house.

'Yes, just my valet, actually, but he is invaluable.'

'I know several wizards who employ a human valet to travel with. I've heard house-elves don't like to travel, but I have never had any problems with Tally.' Harry assumed this was Mr Chang's personal elf.

In a beautifully decorated, mostly blue, drawing room, Harry met Cho Chang, the lovely daughter he had been introduced to before, and also a younger daughter Rui , who was eight years old and being tutored by a governess, none other than Miss Weasley.

Harry had spoken to the girl several times during dinner at the Weasleys which he used to attend all the time, but realised at that moment he hadn't been to in quite some time. She was a lovely young woman; very friendly and lively. Harry remembered she had seemed a little shy during their years at Hogwarts, but she had grown out of that.

Miss Granger was there as well, and Harry's head spun with their gossip and giggles. Mr Chang kept giving him knowing looks when Harry's mouth couldn't keep pace with the questions.

Luckily, the two men were saved from the pure female company by the arrival of a boisterous group of young men. Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Neville Longbottom. All of them pureblooded, Harry noted mentally, though his mind did not linger on it. With them came Madam Zabini, Lord Nott and the elderly Lady Longbottom. They were to be quite the large party, Harry realised.

'Lord Potter,' the elderly Nott said, taking Harry's hand in his tight grip. 'A pleasure to finally meet the heir of my old friend.'

'The pleasure is mine, Sir,' Harry returned. 'I hope we will be able to speak about my late grandfather. I have had precious few people who will tell me about him.'

'I will bore you to tears with my stories, I assure you,' Nott hummed gruffly. His frame was hard and compact, and his deep voice seemed to become raspy due to his thick moustache, which almost covered his mouth completely.

'I look forward to it,' Harry replied with a grin. All around, Harry found that this particular group of people were among the most candid, funny and light-hearted people he had met, though both Neville and Nott the younger seemed slightly withdrawn; the former due to shyness, while the latter simply seemed uninterested. The oldest of the group, Lady Longbottom, seemed inclined to give advice on any subject, but was surprisingly spirited. Mr Chang had certainly planned the gathering, and had not lied when he had told Harry it would be quite informal.

Harry's only dark thought that afternoon was that Draco wasn't there to enjoy the company with him.

At dinnertime they were led into a large dining room fit for any king. Harry was seated to Mr Chang's right, across from Lord Nott, and beside Miss Chang. They were served wine and then Mr Chang rose.

'Ladies and Gentleman,' he began with a warm smile. 'Allow me to welcome you all to our country abode, both old and new friends. I look forward to a wonderful season here, and I hope you all stay as long as you can stand us.' A few chuckles escaped the listeners. 'To good company!' Chang declared, raising his glass. The audience followed suit.

'To good company!'

Harry felt happier than he had in a long time, outside of Grimmauld Place that is. Generally, this kind of contentment could only be found when he was alone with Draco talking or doing something together.

He wondered where Draco was, and felt his mood dip, just a little.

The rest of the dinner went very well, and there was a lot of laughter and more giggling. Cho was Harry's main conversation partner. Harry found her very nice, if slightly shy. This led to some awkwardness, as Harry wasn't good at leading the conversation. All in all, though, things went very well.

It was around midnight when Harry finally begged to be shown to his room. Everyone seemed sad to see him leave, which caused him to blush slightly, as he did not enjoy being the centre of attention. He was led upstairs by a house-elf, one of many working for the Changs. In the west wing, behind high double doors, he found his suite. It had a "small" sitting room, compared to the ones downstairs; fine panelled walls of pale green and off-white colours, with a painted ceiling of fairies and other magical creatures roaming around, and expensive and antique furniture in front of a large marble fireplace. All of it came as no real surprise to Harry, considering the state of the rest of the house. The house-elf left and Harry was just about to look for the bedroom, when the doors to said room opened and Draco appeared.

Harry's face lit up.

'Draco, there you are.'

'Here I am, Sir,' Draco said and Harry's smile faltered slightly. It was very hard to detect anything wrong with Draco's tone, but Harry felt instinctively that his valet was trying to hide something. He didn't feel it was right to ask directly, however. 'How was your evening?'

'Oh, fine, very nice actually.'

'Glad to hear it. Would you like to go straight to bed?'

'Yes, I think so,' Harry said with a sigh. 'I'm pretty tired.'

'Very well, I've laid out your nightshirt on your bed. Goodnight, Sir.' Draco headed for the door, right past Harry, who, before he could think about it, grabbed his valet's arm. Realising what he had done, he quickly let go. Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

'I was going to ask… how are… you?' Harry's felt his cheeks heat at the inane question. He had simply wanted to find out how Draco had passed the evening.

'I am fine, Sir,' Draco said slowly. He seemed to understand what Harry meant, for he added: 'The servants' quarters are more than adequate. Luckily, the manor is designed with human servants in mind as well, or else I would have trouble sleeping in a house-elf size bed.'

'Well, that's good… goodnight, Draco.'

'Goodnight, Sir.' Harry watched Draco give his little bow and leave quietly. The quiet of the empty room was stifling. He went to the bedroom. It was as beautiful as every other room in the house, this one done in the same light colours as the sitting room. The bed was huge and draped in heavy green fabrics. His nightshirt was laid carefully on it, and Harry quickly changed into it and fell into the softness. It carried him to sleep without any effort on his part.

xxx

Draco slept fitfully, tossing and turning in the hard bed. The ceiling in the servants' quarters was much lower and Draco felt slightly claustrophobic in them. Worst of all, however, was being around the house elves. He couldn't remember any individual elf – he could barely tell the difference, but since none of them had acknowledged him other than as the servant of Lord Potter, he hoped they would continue to ignore his identity if they knew it.

The fact was that he despised being here. He had not thought it possible to abhor a place he had once loved so much. He hated knowing he was in the house he had once lived in with his family. Everything had gone downhill from the moment they had left England, though Draco had been too young to remember things well. To return as a servant… it was almost unbearable. But he would bear it, because he could do nothing else.

And at least he was with Harry…

xxx

In a world made of softness in every sense, both feeling and light, Harry was cocooned, yet floating. Soft, soft lips were kissing their way up his thigh, along his hip bone, and slowly up his chest all the way to his Adam's apple. Harry leaned his head back and felt a wet tongue make a trail up and around his chin. He opened his mouth eagerly to receive it and moaned when he was kissed fully.

He tried grabbing the body he expected to be attached to the lips, but found himself trapped in the soft cocoon he had been enjoying a moment ago. He groaned in frustration, trying to get free. The lips retreated and Harry tried desperately to follow. He thrashed, but it was no used.

'Sir, Lord Potter…  _Harry.'_  The name worked like a charm, or perhaps more accurately a hex. He jolted awake to find his limbs were tangled in the sheets, and his valet standing over him with a look of concern.

'Draco? What are you doing here?' Harry glanced at the window and sure enough: it was still dark outside. He blushed when he realised he was still aroused. Hoping to hide it, he sat up and surreptitiously arranged the sheets.

'I have already become familiar with the house's magics and it alerted me to a disturbance in your room. Are you alright, Sir?'

'I'm fine,' Harry answered quickly. 'It was just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about. You didn't need to come all the way up here.' Though Draco was only carrying a single candlestick, Harry wondered if he couldn't detect a slight blush to the pale cheeks.

'It is my duty to make sure you are comfortable, even in sleep.'

'Well, thank you, I would really like to get some more of it, however.'

'Yes, of course. Goodnight, Sir.' Draco bowed and retreated quickly, leaving Harry in the darkness. The young Lord turned over on his side, his arousal having by then diminished. He couldn't help but feel touched by the length to which Draco would go. Again he wished they could spend their days together as they had at Grimmauld Place. He went to sleep with mixed emotions. He was excited about staying in the country for the first time, but a part of him also wanted to go home.

He didn't recall the dream when he woke up the next morning.

xxx

Draco hurried back to the servants' wing. Only in his nightshirt, morning robe and slippers, Draco felt rather foolish for having rushed all the way up to Harry's room over something so small. Harry hadn't been angry at least, but Draco should have known better.

Then there was the so-called "nightmare"… Draco was pretty sure Harry hadn't been in the  _throes_ of something frightening.

Draco decided he needed something to eat, or maybe drink, and headed down to the kitchen. It was a huge room in the basement. He withdrew his wand – he never went anywhere without it – and waved it to light the floating candles.

The room flickered into view, along with a tall, dark and handsome young man.

Blaise Zabini.

Draco froze. He watched, unable to move, as Zabini looked up from his drink and searched out the intruder. His eyes came to rest on Draco. A split second later they widened.

'It's couldn't possibly- … Malfoy?'

A name Draco had hoped he had left behind in France. Hearing it now caused a chill to run down his spine.

'What are you doing here?' Zabini continued. 'I haven't heard from you in over… eight years, at least.' The last time the pair had met had been on a holiday in Italy. Both families had rented a villa together. It had been a wonderful summer. The last before things had started going sour. 'How do you know Mr Chang-,' Zabini stopped short. He was looking over Draco's attire. Though the morning robe wasn't shabby by normal standards, it was clearly not expensive. The slippers were rather worn as well.

'You're not here as a guest… oh, no, please, tell me you  _are_  here as a guest…?' Zabini ordered, his voice rising in pitch. It was from pure amusement, however, not compassion. Draco knew his secret was out. There was no point in lying, for come morning Zabini would easily discover the truth. Instead, Draco could do nothing but remain silent. Zabini rose from his place at the table – identical to the one above in the dining room- and came forward.

'So,' he began, a sly smirk gracing his face. 'How did you manage to end up here? Do you work for the Changs?' He punctuated his sentence with a snort.

'I am Lord Potter's valet,' Draco said, keeping his face blank through force of will. 'So sorry to have disturbed you, Sir. I'll just be on my way.' He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Zabini stepped around him quickly, blocking his way.

'Now, now, there is no need to be embarrassed about having lost absolutely everything… reduced to a servant, no more than a house elf.' Draco's jaw clenched, but he remained silent. Zabini grinned wickedly. 'But why are you doing it, I wonder? Serving Lord Potter…' Zabini looked deep into Draco's eyes, something that was deeply disturbing, but Draco would not look away. Slowly, an oily smile spread across Zabini's face.

'If you're done gloating-' Draco tried to move past, but Zabini anticipated his movement.

'I'm not, thanks for asking,' he said nastily. 'I'm assuming you have taken a new name?'

'Spinks. Draco Spinks,' Draco gritted out. Another snort. Zabini shook his head as if exasperated.

'What will people say, I wonder. Surely this will make the papers.'

'What do you want, Zabini?' Draco asked, knowing that the blackmail would be expensive. When Zabini leered, however, Draco wondered if it wouldn't be too much for him to pay…

'Why don't you come up to my room? It's in the west wing, second floor. Right across from your master, I believe. Bring my drink.' With that Zabini turned and left.

Draco watched him go, feeling dread pool in the pit of his stomach. Of all the people to meet- But it was pointless to even waste thoughts on it. He moved towards the table and picked up the glass Zabini had left. It appeared to contain firewhiskey. He sighed.

With a wave of his wand, he extinguished the lights.

_Chapter 8: The Beautiful Boy_

Draco's knuckles felt like they were knocking on either ice or burning coals. He could feel the cold of the hallway pressing in on him; its silence an upsetting contrast to the storm within him. He appeared outwardly contained, however, and seemed to be delivering a drink and nothing else.

The door swung open by a spell. Inside was a set of rooms similar to those Lord Potter had been given, though these were more darkly decorated. Or perhaps it only seemed that way due to the few floating candles that were the only source of light.

Draco found the sitting room empty and so, with a choking swallow, made his way to the half-open bedroom door. Candles were floating around the bed, illuminating with flickering light the form lying there. Zabini's dark eyes seemed deadly beautiful as they beckoned Draco inside.

The young valet closed the door without being asked. 'Your drink,' he said, dropping the "Sir" at the last moment. Zabini's smirk told Draco he noted it.

' _Accio_ glass,' he murmured and Draco let the tumbler slip. Zabini caught it, gulped the firewhiskey down, and set the glass on the bedside table. 'Strip.'

'Not until we have an understanding,' Draco ground out, keeping his temper in check only barely at being ordered about by someone so vulgar.

'Very well, here are my terms. You answer to my every beck and call and I won't tell anyone who you are. Sound good?'

'There must be limits, or else I will rather take the humiliation,' Draco announced firmly, though in reality he wasn't so sure. 'You agree that we can only meet at night when I am not engaged to do something for my employer. And you don't tell a soul about who I am. I want your wizard's oath.'

Zabini threw his head back and laughed. Cackled, was the better word, in Draco's opinion.

'Why should I swear anything to you?'

'Because you want me,' Draco said simply. Zabini narrowed his eyes at first, but then shrugged.

'You are still beautiful, and I like things that are beautiful.'

'This is the only way to get what you want,' Draco declared, ignoring the compliment of being called beautiful - which meant nothing to him when coming from Zabini - and the insult of being called a  _thing_.

'I always get what I want.'

'Not always.'

'I would watch my mouth if I were you!' Zabini spit his words out like venom. He regained his smirk a moment later. The animation in his face had once upon a time fascinated Draco. 'Better late than never I always say. Fine, on my life as a wizard I swear by your aforementioned terms,' he swore drearily. He waved his wand a little and a puff of smoke issued from the tip.

Even though Draco had won the argument, he suddenly felt his insides turning to stone.

'Now…'

Draco was beginning to suspect he  _would_  rather take the humiliation.

'Strip.'

XXX

The morning was beautiful; the kind of day that one longs to spend in the country. Harry was therefore very pleased to wake up late and snuggle in bed for a while. The heavy drapes kept the sun outside almost completely, and Harry was just contemplating getting up to part them when Draco quietly entered.

Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as his valet went straight to the windows and pulled the curtains, a tray with breakfast following him. The light streamed in and Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut.

'Sir?'

'I'm awake,' Harry mumbled.

'I thought perhaps you would enjoy a late breakfast in bed. I hope you forgive the assumption if I was wrong, but considering you slept badly-'

'Please,' Harry said, opening his eyes and sitting up. He looked at Draco curiously. The blond held himself stiffly, more so than usual. His face, though it was never much animated, had over his time with Harry become slightly more readable. Today, however, Draco's face was as neutral as the day he had arrived at Grimmauld Place. 'Why so formal? Are you not feeling well?' Harry asked, his concern shining through his eyes. Draco avoided them as he directed the tray to Harry's lap.

Harry was puzzled. Draco had acted uncomfortable the previous evening, but today he seemed worse.

'I am fine, Sir.' Draco leaned over to pour the tea by hand from the little pot. He liked to do it by hand when dealing with new pots. It poured without protest, thankfully. As Draco set it down, Harry grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look up into Harry's green orbs.

'Draco,' Harry said seriously. 'Please, tell me what's wrong. What happened to speaking frankly?'

'I swear to you, Sir, I am fine. Perhaps a little upset stomach, but that is all.' Harry let go, defeated. He felt instinctively that Draco was lying, but he couldn't force the man to speak the truth. Draco went about laying out clothes for Harry to wear, while the young Lord glumly ate his breakfast.

xxx

The three strapping young men walked at a leisurely pace up the slope towards the manor. They had been coaxed by Mr Chang to enjoy some gentlemanly sport, and so they had borrowed three excellent brooms and a nearby field. Harry had found the company very amiable. They were all flushed and healthy looking as they made their way back for dinner.

While Nott remained mostly silent and had a sort of skulky way about him, Zabini walked with a confidence Harry found himself envying. The taller man was so comfortable in every thing he did. As they walked, Zabini started up a seemingly casual conversation.

'So, your valet, Draco Spinks is it?' Harry glanced sideways.

'Yes, how did you know?'

'I ran into him last night. I couldn't sleep.'

'Oh.'

'He seemed like a very capable young wizard.' Harry found himself smiling at the way Zabini referred to Draco as a young wizard, and not servant or man.

'Yes, he is,' Harry said sincerely. 'I am lucky to have him in my employ.'

'His complexion reminds me of an old family, the Malfoys, have you heard of them?'

'I don't think so…' Harry thought hard. Perhaps he had heard the name before, but he couldn't be sure. He was terrible at remembering all the old family names.

'They removed to France many years ago… I'm surprised you haven't heard of them. The Potters and Malfoys were once very close.'

Harry wasn't sure he understood Zabini's tone, or where the conversation was heading. Luckily, they arrived at the manor and the elves popped into existence to take their gear. The three wizards parted ways and went to their respective rooms to get cleaned up before dinner.

Harry felt a little odd when he entered his rooms, but the steam seeping in from the bathroom caused Zabini's comments to dissipate from his mind. He followed the warmth and found Draco bent over the large, luxurious tub, dripping a few drops of potion in. It caused the water to turn a light shade of lavender and a calming aroma seeped into Harry's very bones. He inhaled deeply and Draco looked up.

'I thought you might enjoy a quick bath to soothe your muscles before dinner.'

'Draco, you think of everything.' Harry sighed gratefully, beginning to strip off his clothes. He was eager to feel all that warm water surrounding him. He was used to Draco seeing him in all states of dress, and didn't think much of it until Draco picked up the clothes he had discarded. There was a sudden sense of softness and kisses. Harry blushed uncontrollably, not understanding where such vague impressions would come from, or why they would come now of all times.

'I'll leave you to it,' Draco said, leaving. Harry hastily got in the tub, feeling even more odd now than after the conversation with Zabini.

Finding himself aroused by the warm water and memories of kisses, Harry glanced over his shoulder and checked if the door was shut, which it was. He wasn't one to indulge in such things often, but he simply could not resist, and so slipped his hand under the water.

He gave a great sigh of pleasure. The warm water and lavender smell was heavenly.

He stiffened slightly when he realised he was still thinking of his valet for some reason, and the thought of Draco seeing him in a state of undress... He grimaced but kept on stroking himself, trying to dispel the image. Draco's eyes. He pictured them full of emotion. Anger, lust, pain, pleasure, happiness… He sped up, the water sloshing over the edge.

He exploded, almost slipping under the water in his blind pleasure.

What had he just done? Harry uttered a profanity when he realised he had not dispelled the image at all! How could he have…? His whole chest, neck and face were red with heat and mortification. It had all happened to fast… well, not  _very_  fast, of course, he wasn't-

Just then the door opened again and Draco returned with fresh clothes and a towel. Harry hoped to all deities that Draco took his redness to be the heat and nothing else. He desperately tried to control his breathing and hoped Draco hadn't heard his moans. Oh, dear, he had moaned, hadn't he? This was not Lord-like behaviour at all.

'I'll just leave these here,' Draco murmured, placing the garments on the stool. Usually he held out a towel for Harry to take, but this time he just placed the towel on top and left. Harry closed his eyes and bit his lower lip in frustration.

He got up and dried himself hastily, donning the robes without a thought to wrinkles or the like. He found Draco waiting for him in the sitting room. The blond stepped up and started straightening Harry's clothes as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Harry became fixated with the blond eyelashes.

Draco suddenly looked up and their eyes met. Harry held his breath, while Draco coughed discretely and stepped back.

'You should go, Sir. You wouldn't want to be late for dinner.'

'No, thank you-…' Harry found his valet's name stuck in his throat for some reason.

He walked out, but Draco's staring eyes wouldn't leave his mind.

xxx

Dinner was perfect, of course, but Harry hardly tasted it, nor could he focus on the conversation for more than a few seconds at the time.

He desperately wanted to understand what had gotten into him in the bath. He recalled reading those questionable books, but surely his intentions had been purely scholarly in nature? Like Draco had suggested…

But more than that was the fact that he had been picturing his valet's eyes. That was wrong on more than one level, whether the servant be a man or a woman.

'Oh, yes, the Malfoys. Now there is a mystery.' Harry's attention was caught by Mr Chang, who was nodding in Zabini's direction. Everyone seemed eager for this discussion, so Harry thought he should make an effort to listen in. 'I am not sure all of you are aware of this, but of course this manor used to be Malfoy Manor.' Harry's eyebrows rose at this declaration. Only he and Hermione Granger seemed surprised by the news.

'We haven't summered with them for over eight years,' Madam Zabini declared, and with a wave of her hand added: 'It's as if they just, poof, disappeared.'

'Well, if anyone can go into hiding it's the Malfoys,' her son commented.

'Indeed,' Mr Chang said. 'They have quite the reputation. There were many different rumours, speculations… Of course the last attempt to locate them was instigated by the late Lord Potter.'

'Really, do you know why?' Harry asked. As if realising what he had said, Mr Chang grew distinctly uncomfortable. Zabini, it seemed, had no such qualms.

'If the Malfoys had been found instead of our current Lord Potter, Draco Malfoy would have inherited everything,' he informed the room. Harry blinked at the name. ' _A coincidence, of course, surely,'_ he reasoned _._  'When the Malfoys weren't found he informed his solicitor of your location, or so I've heard,' Zabini said with false humility. Harry wasn't so socially inept that he couldn't hear the implied message:  _he had to settle for the half-blood._

'Did you know Draco Malfoy?' Harry asked just to have something to say.

'Yes, we were childhood friends. I knew him very well.' Harry frowned at Zabini's smirk. 'He was spoiled, arrogant, but brilliant, especially at potions. The family employed one of the greatest Potion Masters in Europe.'

'I remember him as a very beautiful boy,' Madam Zabini said wistfully. 'It is such a shame the young ladies here will never have the chance to meet him.'

The rest of the dinner was spent discussing other available bachelors among the ladies, while the men moved on to politics. Harry felt a cliché had been reached, and so decided to excuse himself.

That night he couldn't sleep at all. His first day in the country had not gone as planned. So his grandfather had not wanted to give his fortune to a half-blood. Why should he care now? He shouldn't waste his thoughts on pureblood bigots. The Malfoys…gone somewhere in Europe. Draco Malfoy… wasn't that a strange coincidence? But of course it was simply a coincidence and there was one fact that made sure Harry held that belief firmly: Draco Spinks was not a spoiled, arrogant pureblood heir. He was an efficient and polite valet.

An efficient, polite valet who also happened to be absolutely gorgeous.

* * *

_Chapter 9: Another one?_

Draco slept badly, his dreams a mixture of his past and his unconscious fears…

' _Harry!' Draco ran towards the figure, but his little legs couldn't move fast enough. A hand on his shoulder stopped him short, then stepped in front of him, obscuring his goal._

' _Draco, come, we are leaving-'_

' _No! I don't want to!' Draco cried, stomping his foot petulantly. Lucius took his arm in a vice-like grip._

' _Do not argue, your mother is waiting.'_

' _If she wants to move to France, let her!' Draco tried to get away, but he was too weak, and so he was dragged away…_

_His mother, always so sick, so tired, so sick of the English climate. Southern France was the place she could finally rest. Draco, even though he was only eight, could tell she was never truly sick. Not like the time he had almost died of Dragon Pox when he was five. That was sick. This was nothing. She was always complaining!_

_He hated her, he felt the hate burning through him, but it was a new hate. He had not felt that way then, because he didn't know then what her decision would bring. He could hate her now though, in his dreams._

_In France many things had changed…_

' _Draco,' his name had never been whispered quite like that before. Sébastien's lips were only just shirting his earlobe, tickling him._

' _Stop, I want Harry.' But he was only a shadow on the edge of the scene. Draco could not reach him._

' _No you don't. He's not even here. Only I am here.' Draco tried to twist away, but the familiar hands held him tight. This was an embrace he had once cherished._

' _Let me go.'_

' _Draco, come with me. I will feed you strawberries and champagne.' Draco wanted to say no, but he knew he had already said yes._

_Suddenly, as Draco felt his naked body in that fiery embrace, the door banged open. Again and again it banged open, the white light blinding even though the hallway had been barely lit. Draco shielded his eyes, but he need not see who was there. He knew it all too well._

' _Father!'_

'Harry!' Draco sat bolt upright in bed, sweating and panting. His eyes searched the small room, but the shadows were empty. His memories stayed in his dream. Thank Merlin for that. It felt so utterly strange to feel such terror while reliving times that had been pleasant, at least until a certain point, especially when the memories were twisted with dream-elements.

In an effort to shake the dream off Draco decided to get up, despite the fact that the sun had not yet risen. He went to the small bathroom down the hall in the otherwise abandoned servants' quarters (all the house-elves slept together). After washing his face he stared at the mirror and saw his fifteen-year-old self in the pale eyes.

He had been so in love, so blind! Sébastien had told him everything he had wanted to hear, and he had ignored everything else: his upbringing, his status, his family. He had even been blind to the downward spiral his father was pulling the House of Malfoy towards.

Draco knew it was the Manor that was bringing his past to mind. He hated it. He had done everything he could to leave it all in France, but even little things brought it all back. There was the time he had been to the market and there had been papers from all over the world for sale alongside  _The Daily Prophet._  Upon the sight of  _Le Monde Magique_ he had been unable to move for five whole minutes.

Cursing his luck, Draco went about his morning ablutions. His mood would not improve as long as he stayed here, and it was getting more and more difficult hiding this fact from Harry. In fact, he was fairly certain he wasn't hiding things very well at all.

Draco knew Harry was suspicious of Draco's sudden return to formality even when alone, but it was a defence mechanism Draco had developed. His professional manner acted as a shield in all situations. With the Manor seeming to press in from all sides, he needed all the protection he could get. He knew he was upsetting Harry, but he simply could not stop himself. He could not let go while in this house.

With a sigh, Draco went to eat breakfast with the house-elves. What had his life become? No, don't dwell on that! Draco slammed the bathroom door shut so hard the walls rattled.

xxx

The young Lord Potter lounged by the lake, quietly contemplating his valet. Someone observing him might think he was simply taking in the scenery, but in reality Harry's mind was abuzz with activity.

He could not understand why Draco was so cold and distant. It had happened on the evening of their arrival so perhaps it had something to do with their coming here? Unfortunately, Harry could not think of a single reason for why the Chang's manor would affect his valet so.

Blaise Zabini had said Draco was very capable. Surely that meant Draco had made a good impression? Harry thoughts caused a frown to furrow his brow. How had they run into each other? Blaise hadn't said…

'Lord Potter?' Harry startled and looked up. Ginny was standing hesitantly over him in a lovely yellow summer dress. Her hair shone in the sun.

'Miss Weasley,' Harry replied. He smiled once his nerves calmed. 'Formality has no place here, I think. I'm sure I told you to call me Harry,' he said sincerely. The whole point of his coming had been to leave Lord Potter behind, after all.

'Then you must call me Ginny,' the redhead replied. 'May I sit?'

'Of course,' Harry said at once, managing to find his manners. 'Let me transfigure something into a bench or blanket. I seem to have just plonked myself down right on the grass.'

'Well, it is very soft and dry,' Ginny commented as she sat down. Harry noticed she was slightly flushed and thought perhaps it was a bit too hot to sit in the sun. He was just about to offer to transfigure an umbrella of some sort, when Ginny continued. 'How are you enjoying your stay here?'

'Very well,' Harry said, trying not to think of Draco. 'The Changs are very easy to be around.'

'Yes, they are.'

'Where is the youngest Miss Chang?' Harry inquired.

'She is practicing her Latin,' Ginny replied. 'A necessary evil, I'm afraid.' Harry smiled at her comment. He had always liked the Weasleys. They never pretended to be anything more than they were. They were never false. It was one thing Harry could not stand; false people. Like the Umbridges…

'You must have been very good at all kinds of subjects to become governess,' Harry remarked.

'Oh, I did tolerably well,' Ginny waved the compliment away. 'What about you? What was your favourite subject?' Harry blinked. No one had ever asked him that before. He was at a loss for a moment.

'I suppose Defence Against The Dark Arts was my best subject. But I also very much enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures, even though Professor Hagrid is rather… unconventional.'

'To say the least,' Ginny laughed. 'He was the best teacher, I think, even though we never learned anything.' Harry chuckled at that and could not help but agree. 'I remember you at school. You and my brother always got to go on the best adventures.'

'Perhaps "best" is not the appropriate word. Foolhardy more likely.'

'Perhaps…' Ginny mused, staring at Harry with a small smile at the corner of her mouth. 'A pity you are so far away from each other now.'

'Far away? It's only a floo trip.'

'I meant… socially.'

'Oh,' Harry looked away, uncomfortable as he always was when discussing such things. He thought it slightly in poor taste of Ginny to bring it up. But why should he not say what he thought to her of all people? She would not care, surely? 'I don't think my good fortune of inheriting a title should stop us from being friends,' he pronounced clearly, surveying the lake.

'You don't?'

'Of course not,' he looked back at Ginny, his words sharper than intended. 'Ron is one of the few true friends I have. I do not care one wit whether he is the son of a king, a ministry employee or a beggar. There are no laws that prevent us from socialising. Tell me, he has not told you he is worried about it, has he?' Harry grew agitated as he let his emotions get the best of him.

'No, not at all,' Ginny reassured him, smiling kindly. 'I'm sorry if I made you nervous. Thank you for a lovely chat, but I must return to my duties.' She leaned forward, the movement so quick Harry did not have time to react. He felt a firm press of lips to his cheek and then she was up and halfway across the lawn. He stared after her, perplexed.

xxx

'Draco?' Harry searched his rooms and found Draco putting away some clothes in the ornate closet in the bedroom.

'Yes, Sir?'

'I need your help.' Draco put away the last robe and turned his attention to his employer.

'Of course, Sir.' Harry sighed at Draco's tone. It wasn't so much what he said, but the way his face remained statue-like.

'It's Miss Weasley.' Harry turned and went back into the sitting room, flopping down onto the sofa. He both heard and felt Draco follow, standing stiff behind the sofa to Harry's left. 'I think… well, it is just a slight suspicion, but I think she might, just might, be interested… in me.' When Draco did not immediately answer, Harry turned and stared.

'You mean she indicated to you that she was not adverse to you courting her?' Harry rolled his eyes at the convoluted question.

'I mean she might not be adverse to courting  _me!_ '

'Well, if you want my professional opinion you should find a way to indirectly, but politely imply that the degree of separation in your social status prohibits you from making any advances towards her, apart from an informal friendship of course.'

'Draco!' Harry sprang from his seat and faced his valet, or tormentor in this case. 'Stop this at once!'

'Stop speaking or stop giving you my advice?'

'Stop both if you can't do it properly.'

'If my performance is not to your liking-'

'Draco, stop,' Harry held up his hands for silence, closing his eyes in exasperation. He opened them again when he found his control, and that was when he saw it. There was pain in Draco's eyes. He was struggling, with something, but what it was Harry had no idea. In any case pushing Draco clearly had no effect, so it would probably be best if he just let it rest. 'I was just hoping…' Harry continued, trying to find his original point. 'That you could find some ingenious way of doing it like you did with the Umbridges. Only, not make her hate me or anything! It's just… you are very cunning.' Harry hoped the compliment might help. Draco remained stone-faced.

'I am afraid that would be inadvisable. In fact, upon further reflection, I cannot think of a single thing apart from a direct refusal that would deter a Weasley. Indeed, my previous advice should be disregarded. Weasleys are known for their stubbornness. I cannot imagine what a female Weasley is like in that regard.'

'You know of the Weasleys?' was what Harry managed to get out of the speech, thanks to the speed at which Draco said it.

'By reputation only. They are rather infamous despite their low status-'

'This from a valet?' Harry actually slapped his hand over his mouth. He could not phantom what had possessed him to utter such horrid words. It was just that the Weasleys were very dear friends, despite the unfortunate situation with Ginny. He never could stand idle while his friends needed defending. But to insult Draco that way! Harry was appalled, and Draco had, incredibly enough, become even more stone-faced.

'If that is all, Sir?'

'Draco-'

'I would prefer it if you called me Spinks, Sir. Some distance, after all, should be maintained in such a relationship.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said, his eyes pleading. 'Truly, Draco, I did not mean it. I was only angry because you insulted the Weasleys. You know me! I don't  _care_  about social statuses! I'm an orphan for Merlin's sake!'

'You are Lord Potter.'

'I'm Harry,' he tried to insist. The back of his throat felt like acid. He was either going to throw up or start sobbing. He did not know which was worse at that point. Draco met his eyes again and seemed to deflate just a little. It might have been Harry's imagination, but he may just have seen a tiny nod.

'I accept your apology, but I should get back to work.' Harry's shoulders slumped when Draco bowed and excused himself. He hadn't lost Draco, but neither had things improved at all. He fell back on the sofa and close his eyes again, tears of frustration slipping out.

Abruptly, he realised one thing he could do: go home.

Harry would not stay another night in Chang Manor.

* * *

_Chapter 10: The return home and other developments_

Harry knew he was a man who could be naïve at times, and sometimes he even prided himself a little on his resistance to the cynical world-view many held, but he had not until this moment really considered how detrimental his naiveté could be. He had believed that returning to the Potter house would at the very least help return his and Draco's former camaraderie. Unfortunately, after two weeks of the exact same treatment from his valet, Harry was forced to conclude that something else entirely was haunting Draco, and that it had simply been a coincidence that it started on their arrival at Chang Manor.

But what else could Harry do? The more Draco remained the personification of professionalism, the more Harry sulked. They no longer spent hours talking, and Harry no longer received instructions on how to handle himself during whatever event he was attending. He could no longer wander into the kitchen and see what Draco was cooking up, nor could he laugh at Draco's witty repartee. Not only was the man distant and cold, but he went out much more often as well, in the evenings. He always gave an excuse or asked permission, of course, but Harry suspected Draco simply wanted to stay away. That depressed Harry even more.

So, with nothing but a string of social functions to look forward to, Harry all but bordered himself up in his library. It was during this time that he rediscovered the "books of ill repute" as he called them. He found himself, perhaps against his better judgement, reading the volumes on more than one occasion. He always took them out when he knew Draco was out of the house, which was often these days.

One time he "accidentally" began studying a certain drawing very closely. It was one of the more recent books and the bodies were very anatomically correct…

The whole page was covered with the drawing of two muscular men. They were pleasuring each other with their mouths, forming almost a circle. Harry swallowed heavily. He knew he shouldn't; it would be even worse than touching himself while thinking of Draco's eyes-. Against his will Harry imposed the images of himself and Draco in the same position as the men in the drawing-

He slammed the book shut, breathing heavily.

'This is not good,' he said to himself, desperate to get the image out of his mind. His eyes scanned the room, making sure no one had seen him. He swallowed heavily. Should he do this? Draco had said it was no one's business but his own… but that probably did not include fantasies about him. On the other hand, he would never know. Harry's hands opened the book again, having kept a finger inside to not lose the page. With the book on the desk, one hand was free to sneak down into Harry's lap.

'Sweet Merlin,' Harry whispered. For the first time in his life, Harry allowed himself to do exactly what he wanted, damn the consequences, damn the rest of the world! It was both liberating and terrifying, and very pleasurable. He saw Draco in his mind's eye, on his knees and gazing up with pure passion in the usually stony eyes.

' _What can I do for you, my Lord?'_  His voice would be seductive, like honey dripping from his lips and covering Harry's member. Perhaps Draco would even lick it off-

Harry came so abruptly he didn't know what hit him. He hadn't even realised his hand had sped up. He felt a little sore, and the sensation made Harry return to the present. Immediately he felt guilty, dirty and immoral, but then he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. It was nobody's business but his own. He would not be telling anyone about it, but he damn well wasn't going to be ashamed of himself in his own house.

Still feeling a niggling sense of guilt over using Draco in his fantasies, Harry decided that was enough "reading" for tonight.

XXX

Draco pulled his cloak tighter around him, not because it was cold, but because it gave him the illusion of anonymity. He slipped through the gate to the Zabinis' townhouse and climbed the steps. A house-elf answered the door. Draco gave it no notice except to cover it with his cloak. He headed up the stairs, finding Zabini in his private study as usual. Madam Zabini was spending the remainder of the season in Italy, the fashionable location for this year.

'Shall we get right to it?' Draco asked without preamble. Their deal had continued; Blaise demanded to see him at least three times every week. Blaise smirked at his tone, but remained lounged on the sofa.

'No, I thought we could talk first.'

'The deal did not include any talking.'

'Come now, Draco, where are your manners?'

'I am not telling you a single thing, so you might as well give up.' Blaise rolled his eyes and beckoned Draco forward. The blond was pulled down and pressed into the sofa by the length of Blaise's body.

'You're so pretty, Draco,' Blaise whispered in a sickly sweet tone, lowering his head so he could breathe into Draco's ear. The young valet closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was somewhere else. Unfortunately the last person who had lain on top of him was Sébastien, and that had ended rather disastrously. He didn't want to think about that, but he also didn't want to concentrate on Blaise's tongue on his neck.

' _Do you realise what you have done!' Lucius thundered at his son, who stood stiff and unflinching in front of the large desk._

' _Do you wish for me to answer or-'_

' _None of your cheek!' Lucius hissed. 'You disgust me, I wash my hands of you!' Despite his resolve to not care, Draco felt a stab in his gut at that._

' _Father, it is not as if the Lacroix family will ever-'_

' _And naïve as well, will your failures never cease?' Lucius asked mockingly. 'It took me less than ten minutes to get the truth out of your precious Sébastien. He was hired by a certain Monsieur Dupont, but I have no doubt it is one of Miss Lacroix' other suitors. He did not get the chance to collect any evidence, but you can be sure the devil has spread enough rumours to destroy your chances, and when Sébastien adds his testimony... It hardly matters anyway…. Your mother is packing….' Draco did not hear the rest of the speech. '…We will not be taking you with us...' He was too busy feeling his heart break. '…Snape has helped me cover our tracks...' He had been so sure it had been true love. For the first time he had been happy. Actual happiness was very rare in the circles he frequented. 'We will be in…before the day is out… Are you listening to me?'_

_Draco's eyes snapped to his father's. They were livid with fury, but Draco could see the fear underneath._

' _Should I care?'_

' _I've sold Malfoy Manor. I suggest you disappear.'_

' _I do not need your advice. I don't need anything from you!'_

' _And that is exactly what you will get.'_

_Leaving the house with nothing but his pride had not been a very good plan. If not for Snape finding him a few weeks later, Draco would probably have starved._

'Ah, Draco! Such a tight, sweet arse! Or should I say derrière? Ha!' Draco gritted his teeth as Blaise took a painful hold of his shoulder and pounded his last few thrusts in. Blaise never made it pleasurable for anyone but himself, but he allowed Draco to prepare himself thoroughly beforehand. Still, Draco's rear was almost constantly sore these days, despite his self-made potion to heal it.

'Brilliant,' Blaise finally sighed and pulled out. Draco reached down and pulled up his trousers while the other man went and poured himself a drink.

'I'll be going now,' Draco muttered.

'No, stay, have a drink,' Blaise insisted.

'No, thank you,' Draco said firmly. 'Whatever it is you want to know, give up, I will never tell you.' Blaise turned and leaned against the wall, staring at Draco with a sly grin on his face.

'What did your father do?' he asked suddenly, dropping the expression and all pretence. It was such a straightforward question Draco forgot his sarcasm for a moment.

'Nothing interesting,' he said instead.

'But it forced him to disappear?'

'He made a deal. I never bothered to find out the details. He was spared prison and his name implicated, but he had to leave. Naturally, rather than return to Britain penniless, he sold it all and fled to someplace cheap.' Blaise raised an eyebrow.

'I think you just told me what you said you would not under any circumstances.'

'I guess it doesn't seem as important, when I think about it,' Draco shrugged one shoulder. 'It is hardly enough for the likes of you. Not enough to create a decent rumour even.'

'True, it is rather vague.'

'I'll be going now.'

'See you Sunday.' Draco nodded and left quietly.

XXX

'Good morning, Sir,' Draco murmured as he placed the breakfast tray in front of his master. Harry barely nodded, not looking up from the book he was perusing. Draco paused, staring at the dark head. His lips parted, a word almost forming, but then he closed his mouth and turned away. There was nothing he could say or do that would banish the tension between them. Perhaps it would be better if he simply left Harry's employ?

No, that was something he could never do. He felt in his soul that he would rather… Actually, he would rather do anything than leave Harry's presence. This sudden and out-of-the-blue revelation caused quite a stir in Draco. He leaned on the desk slightly, casting another glance back at his employer. He sighed silently and straightened to leave.

'Spinks?' Draco spun around at his name. Harry glanced up; there were dark circles under his eyes, which merely proved Draco's theory that he had spent the night in the library again. 'I won't be dining at home tonight.' Green eyes returned to the page, leaving Draco empty.

Draco bit his lip, wondering whether he should ask why. Without Harry here Draco should probably pay Blaise a visit. Perhaps then he could forgo their Sunday meeting. Urgh, the very thought was enough to put bile in Draco's mouth. His worst nightmare was Harry's finding out of course. If that were to happen- no, he forced himself not to consider the possibility.

'I'll be dining at the Weasleys, if you were wondering,' Harry commented without looking up.

'Oh, right, yes, Sir,' Draco replied stupidly.

'Yes, Ginny was kind enough to invite me, we bumped into each other at the Ministry the other day when I was in to see Ron.'

'Ginny?' Draco blurted out, his vision filling with long red hair and sparkling eyes- he felt bile rising again.

'Miss Weasley, yes,' Harry barely took the time to look up and give Draco a reprimanding glance for his mistake. Draco noted that Harry had not been correcting himself. He had said Ginny… Had they spent much time together while at the Manor? Draco had been a little preoccupied to notice.

'Does she often invite you over, Sir?' Draco found the most tactful way to ask, which wasn't very tactful at all, really. Luckily, Harry seemed oblivious to his true question.

'Well, she doesn't personally invite me of course, but the Weasleys have had me over numerous times since I met Ron. Their whole family is really delightful.' Draco suspected that this last comment was made for his benefit, which made him slightly resentful since he clearly remembered who had said the last nasty comment in that argument.

'Yes, I'm sure,' he tried to sound sincere. 'I'll leave you to your breakfast then.' Harry did not speak again, and Draco left to go stew in the kitchen. Had not Harry asked for Draco's advice on how to get rid of the Weasley girl? Had he changed his mind? Draco paced the kitchen.

But why should he care anyway?

'Oh, stop fooling yourself,' he muttered. 'You've gone from appreciation, to admiration, to obsession to-… well, obsession, clearly.' He stopped as an owl pecked at the window. Draco let it in and took the note. It was addressed to him.

_Bumped into Weasley just now and he boasted Lord Potter was coming for dinner. I will be expecting you._

_\- BZ_

Draco groaned; it was just his luck nowadays.

XXX

Harry sighed deeply when Draco finally left the library. He could barely look at his valet anymore. What had he done to himself? Some harmless fantasies were ruining what little relationship he had left with Draco. He had agreed to the dinner at the Weasleys with enthusiasm, just to get away. At the rate things were going, neither of them were going to be spending anytime in the house at all. It was ridiculous. He needed to do something about it, soon.

On Sunday, then, he decided. He would confront Draco, or at least find out where the valet was disappearing to all the time. As for his fantasies… well, he would deal with those later.

* * *

**Chapter 11: In which the young Lord Potter**

* * *

A Gentleman's Gentleman, ch 11

Warnings: none, I'm afraid.

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and commented. You have been very patient and I'm surprised at how many are still reading.

Beta: A big thank you to Hidden Lily.

-:-

_Chapter 11: In which the young Lord Potter hits a table_

Harry chuckled, grinning widely at the Weasleys' merriment. He had not felt so carefree in ages. Despite his sudden rise in social status the Weasleys did not treat him any differently, at least not after he had insisted he was the same as always.

'I was so sad when I heard you had left Chang Manor so suddenly,' Ginny commented. She was seated next to him.

'I apologise for leaving without saying goodbye,' Harry replied. 'I had some unforeseen personal business to attend to.' Ginny smiled sweetly at him.

'Of course, you must be very busy.'

'Well, not really,' Harry said, slightly uncomfortable. 'I have yet to find a true occupation I can be happy with.'

'Occupation?' Ginny exclaimed with raised eyebrows. Luckily the others around the table were having too animated conversations to hear her. 'But you are a Lord. Why would you need to work?'

'I wouldn't work for money, but for personal achievement. Or even just to have something else to fill the days.'

'Something else?'

'Something other than functions and events and… luncheons and dinners,' Harry sighed, feeling tired just thinking about it all.

'But that's all part of the aristocracy,' Ginny explained calmly. 'You of all people should appreciate the difference.'

'Would you not get bored, Ginny?' Harry said, using her first name unconsciously in an effort to get his point across. He only realised he had said it when she smiled.

'Oh, I suppose,' she agreed good-naturedly. 'You always were hard-working.' Harry felt himself getting hot around his collar from the way she smiled at him. He had not forgotten the way she kissed his cheek at the lake. It was clear she was interested in him for a husband, but how did he feel about a wife?

Harry's mind immediately went back to his fantasies. Not once had he pictured a woman of any kind. Not once had he felt infatuated with a witch. Right at that moment, Harry came to the realisation that he would not marry. No more Umbridges would be thrust upon him by McGonagall or anyone. He would remain a bachelor. As for his true tastes… well, he wasn't sure if he was ready to go any further than fantasies at the moment, but he would not live a life in a passionless marriage. It went against his core nature. He would be happy in his life.

'Harry?' His attention snapped to, and he begged Ginny to repeat the question. They talked and ate amiably, but Harry knew that afterwards he would have something unpleasant to say.

XXX

Outside the weather was lovely and so Molly Weasley insisted they have dessert outside in the garden. Harry indulged in a heavenly piece of chocolate cake. It was only a moment's distraction, however, for afterwards he asked Ginny to take a walk with him up the nearby hill. She agreed readily, and Harry felt guilt sting his heart.

'It's such a lovely day,' Ginny commented as they strolled at a leisurely pace.

'Yes,' Harry agreed. He forced himself not to be nervous. He would do the right thing… we was just a little unsure about how.

'The company, I would say, is lovely too.' Harry would perhaps had it a comment in poor taste had anyone else said it, but looking over at Ginny he could only see her happy sincere smile. She was a Weasley after all. He loved all of them dearly, but he could never be anything more than a friend to them.

'Indeed,' he said, finding the words sticking in this throat.

'So what would a Lord do?'

'Excuse me?'

'What would you work with,' Ginny elaborated. Harry focused on the ground. The grass was fresh under his feet as they climbed the hill.

'I don't rightly know. Something meaningful. Not like I did before. I guess I want to make a difference.'

'Well, as a Lord you can certainly pick your charity.'

'I don't want to do charity work,' Harry protested, stopping and turning to his companion. 'Don't misunderstand me, I admire those who do, but there are so many witches, and wizards, who think charity is just another excuse for a party. I want to  _work_ , not organise.'

'I admire you for that,' Ginny said, stepping close. 'I would like to do something meaningful too.'

'You do. Teaching is a very noble profession.'

'You think so?'

'Of course!'

'You are… so good, Harry.' Ginny's eyes had a new softness Harry had not noticed before. She was very close. 'You do not care about social status, you want to work, you have such a strong moral centre-'

'Ginny, stop,' Harry said abruptly, stepping back.

'What's the matter? Did I say something-'

'Please,' Harry said. He needed to get things right. 'Ginny, you are my friend, just as Ron is my friend. If I have given you indication that I feel…-'

'Please, stop, you have said enough,' Ginny said, turning away. 'Of course it was ridiculous of me to imagine-'

'Not ridiculous!' Harry hastened to insist. 'Just… impossible.'

'Impossible?' Ginny's eyes pieced him. 'I thought you did not care about status or titles.'

'I don't,' Harry proclaimed adamantly. 'Believe me if I were inclined to marry I would chose you above any other. You are the most sincere witch I know. I could not ask for better.'

'If I am so perfect for you, then why is it impossible?' Ginny asked with a huff, not understanding. Harry was glad they were out of sight of the rest of the party, and he hoped out of earshot as well.

'Because I am resolute in remaining a bachelor.' At Ginny's raised eyebrows Harry sighed, glancing down the hill. 'I know, in my heart, that I would be unhappy in a marriage.' When it seemed like Ginny would inquire further, Harry quickly cut her off. 'Please, let us return. That is all I will say on the subject. I hope you are not too angry at me and that we always remain friends.' Harry gave her a slight bow and then hurried down the hill. He did not like her calculating gaze. He felt it follow him as he left.

XXX

Harry sighed, a mixture of relief at being home, and pure tiredness. His departure from the Weasleys had gone amicably enough, and although Ginny gave him a piercing look, it was not malicious. Harry was glad he had set things right between them. He had not told her everything, for obvious reasons, but it still felt like by telling her, he had also told himself. He shook his head, wondering at his strange thoughts.

He got up from his chair and went wandering around the library, looking for something to take his mind from things for a while. Unconsciously, or perhaps not, he stopped by the shelf that held most of his questionable collection.

He picked a book at random and flipped through it. There were no drawings of any kind, but Harry felt like reading a bit, so he took it with him back to the desk. Getting comfortable, he soon discovered that it was a collection of short-stories. He felt his curiosity spiking and began reading.

Only fifteen minutes later, the young Lord Potter had finished the first tale. He sat stunned, staring into space, but not really seeing anything. The story had been simple, perhaps cliché in some circles, but to Harry it represented something entirely new.

The details of the story are not important. The love between the main characters were what struck a cord in Harry. They were, of course, both male.

Having fantasised about men several times now, Harry had not yet imagined any sort of emotional attachment to one of the same sex. The idea was foreign, yet certainly intriguing, but also impossible. Emotions were for relationships…

The men in the story had fought to be together, running away so they could be happy.

Harry sighed and looked down at the book in his lap. Happy with a man? Those were dangerous thoughts. He felt a stab of regret that he had ever started to investigate his desires in this area. It could only lead to trouble.

Still, that did not stop him from turning the page and reading more.

New possibilities were opening in Harry's mind, whether he wanted them or not.

XXX

As Sunday arrived Harry was becoming even more worried about Draco. He had already informed Aunt Minnie he would not be coming for dinner. Draco seemed to be in a foul mood, his tone even more clipped than usual.

Finally, Harry could take the tension no more and sent Draco out on some errands. He told his valet he wanted to be alone for the rest of the day and Draco disappeared, very quickly.

Of course Harry immediately regretted his decision. Had not his plan been to finally confront Draco about his behaviour? Not that his service to Harry could be anything but the very best, but this cold professionalism had to be caused by something.

Harry vowed to find out what the cause was.

So, with no small sense of guilt and shame, Harry hurried outside and tried to track Draco's magical signature. It was not that difficult, seeing as Draco had no reason to disguise himself. Also, Harry was rather adept at that sort of thing, having been top of the class in Defence. In his boyhood he had dreamed of Auror training, but of course that was too prestigious a job for an orphan with no connections… Harry spared a moment to ponder the irony of him being too high for the job now.

He followed Draco with stealth to the market. He kept his distance, watching Draco weaving in and out of shops, taking care of Harry's requests first, then moving on to some browsing. Draco slipped into a bookshop, one Harry had not been in since his schooldays, and he quickly followed.

Standing hidden behind a shelf, spying on his valet, Harry felt a strange thrill at seeing Draco's face relaxed as he paged through a book. He also felt sad that Draco no longer looked that way at home. Perhaps he should reveal himself and beg Draco to return so they could have everything out?

'Draco, what a pleasant surprise. You simply could not wait to see me until tonight, I imagine,' a silken voice purred suddenly. Blaise Zabini stepped up behind Draco and Harry saw him tense. Harry himself remained perfectly still.

'I thought we were done for the week,' Draco replied neutrally, turning and facing the other man.

'Oh, no, that was just a little extra. Thanks to your employer's slumming with the Weasleys. Say, how about we have a drink together?' Draco opened his mouth to answer, then paused as if in contemplation. He sighed abruptly and shrugged.

'Why not, my  _employer_  wants me out of the house today.'

'Really? Well, it's clear he does not appreciate your talents.' Draco rolled his eyes at this comment and led the way out of the store.

Harry stood as if made of stone for quite some time. He was not entirely sure if his brain would work again. He shook it and tried to focus.

He knew that eavesdroppers never heard anything they wanted to hear, but he had not imagined he would hear something so…  _foul._ He admitted that he had once liked Zabini, but his manner with Draco was entirely inappropriate. He seemed almost oily in this slyness. Harry found himself quite revolted, which was surprising considering he never really liked thinking ill of people. Blaise Zabini would have to be the exception to the rule!

Realising Draco and Blaise were getting away, Harry cast the most powerful disillusionment charm he could muster, and set off in a hurry. Luckily he spotted Draco's blond hair disappearing into the Leaky Cauldron.

The pub was crowded, which was both a blessing and a curse. Harry managed to slip past the patrons and locate his quarry in a booth in the corner. He sidled up to the booth, finally getting within earshot. Zabini was laughing. No, cackling really.

'I don't understand what you find amusing,' Draco commented blandly.

'Never mind, my own special humour will never appeal to you, but don't worry, I have other traits I know you like.' Harry turned away at the lewd comment. 'Come to think of it, let's skip the drink and go straight home. I want you in my bed again.' Harry's eyes clouded over. The room was spinning. The final blow came with Draco's answer, spoken casually, completely unaffected by Zabini's manner.

'Fine, whatever you want.'

Harry stumbled on his way to the Floo. He hardly noticed the many patrons he pushed and was subsequently cursed by, though they themselves could only curse the air. He managed to get to the right fireplace in the right house. He did not remember how he got into his chair in the library, but he found himself there, a picture of Draco in his mind. Draco, when he was closest, tying Harry's tie or straightening his hair, before whatever it was that had come between them…

Had it been Blaise Zabini?

It made perfect sense. Draco had met Zabini, bumped into him in the night, and they had become lovers. And of course Draco would never tell Harry this because  _'it was nobody's business but his own.'_

Then why… why was Draco so distant with him?

The only reason Harry could think of to explain Draco's tenseness was that he was afraid Harry would fire him for this indiscretion.

For a tiny moment Harry thought he just might. The very thought of Draco in Zabini's bed filled him with such fury…! Harry smashed his fist into the desk, upsetting papers and the inkwell. He cared not that his carpet was stained, or that an important invitation had floated under his desk and would be forgotten. All he cared about was doing something violent to Zabini.

But, of course, he would not dismiss Draco. He would never. Their relationship was too important.

 _What relationship?_  A voice inside his head asked.

He almost smashed his fist again, but stopped short. Clarity was emerging, slowly this time, unwinding as if it had been lying in wait for light to come.

He would never dismiss Draco because he did not care if his valet was homosexual. He wanted to punch Zabini's face away because he hated the thought of the two of them together, and this hatred was caused by his fierce attraction to Draco Spinks. No, no, no, nothing so ordinary.

His love for Draco Spinks… Or maybe not, that was rather terrifying. Harry settled on a compromise:

His complete and utter devotion to the man who had made his life make sense again.

Suddenly, echoing from the front hall, Harry heard the door being violently slammed shut.

* * *

_Chapter 12: 'I know everything'_

'Draco, what a pleasant surprise. You simply could not wait to see me until tonight, I imagine,' a silken voice purred suddenly. Draco stiffened, only barely keeping a grimace off his face.

'I thought we were done for the week,' Draco turned, watching Blaise neutrally.

'Oh, no, that was just a little extra. Thanks to your employer's slumming with the Weasleys. Say, how about we have a drink together?' Having a drink with Blaise was not Draco's idea of fun. He was about to return with a scratching remark when he paused. Harry had sent him out of the house, and that had irked him. He realised he would have nothing to do all day if he said no; he had already completed all his errands.

'Why not, my  _employer_  wants me out of the house today.'

'Really? Well, it's clear he does not appreciate your talents.' Draco rolled his eyes at this comment and led the way out of the store.

They were lucky and found a booth in a corner at the Leaky Cauldron. Draco ordered a butter beer, while Blaise went with a firewhiskey.

'So? You seem annoyed at someone. Your employer?' Draco looked away, even more irritated that Blaise had guessed at the reason for why he was upset. He wasn't upset really; he was simply frustrated over the situation at home. He hated lying to Harry so much, and he dreaded Harry finding out and forever looking down upon his  _former_  employee.

'He wanted to spend the day alone at home, so I had to make myself scarce,' Draco replied, trying to keep his emotions from showing. For some reason he continued. 'I know he wants to ask if I'm keeping something from him.' Blaise started to chuckle and Draco looked at him askance, his brow furrowing as the other man's laugh increased in volume.

'I don't understand what you find amusing,' Draco commented blandly.

'Never mind, my own special humour will never appeal to you, but don't worry, I have other traits I know you like.' Draco felt like gagging, but knew it would be childish. He did not exactly enjoy their time together, but Draco had long ago managed to separate the act of sex with all emotions. He could enjoy some of their moments together, in a purely physical way.

'Come to think of it, let's skip the drink and go straight home. I want you in my bed again.' Draco almost said no, but again he found himself looking at the situation emotionlessly: he might as well have something to do, perhaps if he pleased Blaise enough now he could go a week without having to sneak off.

'Fine, whatever you want,' Draco said. A part of him despised himself for not dreading what he had to do with Blaise, almost as if he would have preferred it if Blaise had to violate him. Well, a violation it was, but Draco was having trouble with reconciling this with his physical reactions.

They did not even pay for their un-drunk drinks, but that was hardly unusual with high-society clientele. Blaise pulled Draco into his arms the moment they arrived in the large sitting room, kissing him hard. Draco closed his eyes and tried to go limp. In his mind's eye the image of his employer wanted to rise, but he held it back. He had never imagined Harry before, and he would never while with Blaise. Harry would not be tainted by what they did.

'Come on, give as good as you get,' Blaise murmured before kissing down Draco's throat. He was quite talented, from an objective standpoint. When he was in the mood for it.

'I will as soon as the getting gets good,' Draco heard himself remark. Blaise stopped abruptly and stepped back. His face was surprisingly sad instead of sour.

'Your precious employer kicks you out and still you do not allow yourself to truly feel what we have together.'

'We have nothing together,' Draco hissed, his anger sparking faster that he could control. Blaise gave him a dubious look that infuriated him further.

'And you think you might have something with Lord Potter?'

'I am his valet, nothing more,' Draco proclaimed. Blaise gave a dry laugh.

'Do you always mutter your master's name in your sleep?' Draco's retort died in his throat. Had he ever fallen asleep with Blaise? Perhaps he had, for a moment. It was possible. He closed his eyes and turned away. Now Blaise knew even more about him that could be used against him. Truly, he was falling deeper into this pit by the day, and further away from Harry.

'Look at you,' Blaise said, his voice filled with true disappointment. Draco opened his eyes and looked at him, his once childhood friend. 'You were once Draco Malfoy, and now… now you are nothing.'

'I am Draco Spinks, and I earn my living and take pride in it,' Draco spat. 'Unlike you, who do nothing but play with people for your own amusement.'

'Oh, I never play. I am always very serious in my endeavours. But you could have been so much more.'

'My father threw our lives away and I have rebuilt mine as best as I could-'

'Oh, I know you've done well for yourself- well, you've survived,' Blaise cut Draco's indignant rant off. 'But I am talking about what should have been yours, but has instead fallen to someone not worthy.'

'What are you talking about?' Draco demanded.

'The Potter fortune,' Blaise said slowly, his eyes glowing eerily. 'The late Lord Potter wanted to give it all to you, but Lucius had already fled France and you were nowhere to be found. So he gave up and let the half-blood have it. Your master is wallowing in your gold, Draco.'

Draco shook his head, reaching out to grab the mantel. He stared at the glowing timbers, shaking his head again. No, it was not possible.

Unfortunately, it made perfect sense when Draco's pureblood and politically minded brain reasoned it out. Why else would Lord Potter, who had denied the existence of his only son for so long, leave it all to his half-blood grandson? The only reason was that his desire to keep the estate intact outweighed everything else.

'So you see, Draco,' Blaise continued softly from somewhere. 'He is the one who has taken everything that should have been yours. Now how do you feel about your precious Potter?'

'I need to go,' were the only words Draco found.

'Go? Go where? Back to that undeserving half-blood? You will never get any money out of him; they are known to be greedy buggers. Your claim is no more. It is much better if you simply stay here.'

'What?' Draco raised his head and stared at the other man.

'Stay with me. I will provide you with everything you need. You will not be a valet ever again. I'll get you a nice apartment when I'm married.'

'You are insane,' Draco pronounced. 'How is being a whore better than a valet?'

'Oh, Merlin, Draco, your view of the world has become skewed.' Blaise stepped up close and Draco stiffened. 'Come now, don't be difficult.' He leaned in and pressed his lips to Draco's, who allowed it while remaining completely still.

His mind was going a million miles a minute. He could have inherited the Potter fortune if not for his father's stupidity. Harry had it all instead.

But if Draco had inherited the fortune, Harry would have remained at his job at the Ministry. If they passed each other in the street Draco would most likely not even deign to look down at him. It was a most disagreeable thought. In fact, Draco realised then and there that he was glad. If he had not become a valet he would never have met Harry, and he would never have become the person he was at that moment. And the person he was at that moment was someone who did not want to kiss Blaise another moment.

He pulled back abruptly, finding his resolve.

'I'm sorry, Blaise, but I'm afraid our agreement is terminated.' Blaise's eyes went wide with incomprehension. Draco turned to leave, but Blaise grabbed his shoulder.

'If you leave I will tell the  _Daily_   _Prophet_  my story. Everything. Every. Last. Detail. The whole sorry Malfoy story, even the tiniest sordid rumour will be printed for all to see. How long do you think you'll stay in Potter's employ then?'

'Not long, I expect, but, as you said, my view of the world is rather skewed, and I would rather have the rest of the day with him than a lifetime with you. Now, kindly unhand me.' With a growl of rage Blaise let go and stomped out of the room, leaving Draco free to take the floo back to the Leaky Cauldron.

He wasn't sure if he should go home or stay away like Harry had instructed. Now that the confrontation with Blaise was over, Draco found his nerves fraying. He fidgeted and decided to walk all the way home so that he could calm down. Alas, it only served to rile him up. He kept imagining Harry throwing him out in a fit of rage when he discovered the truth. It was so unfair! It was not Draco's fault that his last name was Malfoy. He had not known his name meant so much to the Potter family. True, he had lied, but only to protect himself!

By the time Draco reached the townhouse he was in an agitated mood. He was angry with himself and with Harry for things that had not yet happened. He slammed the door thoughtlessly, spinning around at the sound and realising with dread what he had done. This was not a good start to his last day with Harry…

'Draco?' He spun back around at his name, staring at Harry with wide eyes. Green eyes full of concern stared back. 'What on earth's the matter? You look like you've had a fright.'

'I, I-…' Draco took a breath, trying to calm himself. 'I'm sorry I came back early.'

'That's fine…' Harry looked like he wanted to say more, like it pained him to remain silent. He nodded once to no one in particular and turned away. Draco wanted to call out to him, to confess everything before Harry read the whole sorry tale in the papers, but he wanted the time Harry didn't know to last as long as possible. He slowly noticed that Harry had yet to move. The young Lord turned back, his eyes full of a strange glow Draco had not seen before.

'Draco,' Harry began, taking a few steps forward. 'I need to tell you… I know everything.'

Draco's heart skipped a beat.

'E-everything?'

'Yes, but you have no cause for fear. I would never fire you. I can't deny that it upsets me-' Harry closed his eyes. Draco was fairly sure the man was fighting his temper. Would this really upset Harry so? Draco had still subconsciously hoped Harry would not care that he was the original heir. It seemed petty to be quite so angry about it. 'Still,' Harry went on suddenly, and Draco could hear the bitterness in his tone. 'I'm not sure I understand why this made our relationship so strained. How could you be worried about what I think when you know what sort of literature I favour?'

'What?' Now Draco was truly confused.

'In fact I think it was very unfair of you to so suddenly stop spending any time with me at all. I mean, of course, I know it's not your duty to do so, but I  _really_  thought we were having fun-'

'Please, Sir, stop!' Draco interrupted. Harry took a long step forward, coming to stand right in front of his valet.

'Do you love him?' He demanded. Draco was unable to look away from Harry's fierce gaze. His mind became a complete blank. 'Well?' Harry's meaning became abruptly clear to Draco who felt his heart start beating rapidly, while at the same time his mouth chose that moment to yell:

'No, of course not!' Harry's eyes widened.

'You don't?'

'No,' Draco repeated quietly.

'Then why have you been in his bed more than once?' Draco felt his spirit crumbling. This was ten million times worse than Harry knowing his true identity. Draco lowered his head, utterly ashamed that he had agreed to anything Blaise had ever suggested. 'Draco, please explain this to me. I have to understand or I'll go mad,' Harry pleaded. Draco forced himself to look up and was again mesmerised by Harry's shining green eyes. He knew he had to come clear. Harry deserved it.

'I was blackmailed.'

'What?' Harry's indignant shout made Draco flinch, but it also stirred something deep within him. 'Zabini,' Harry growled. 'He needs to be arrested, the bastard, but not before he's got a good beating-'

'Harry,' Draco reached out and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. They both stilled for a moment. 'You might not be quite so keen to defend my honour if you knew why he was blackmailing me.'

'I don't care,' Harry said. 'Whatever the secret is, you can tell me or not, it does not change how I feel.'

'How you feel?' Draco's stomach was fluttering. He felt unsteady on his feet. Up until that moment he had not realised just how  _much_  Harry meant to him. It was terrifying; to feel emotions that had led him to ruin before. Did he dare give in to them again? Then again, he trusted Harry on a completely different level than he ever had Sébastien. They did not even compare.

'Yes,' Harry sighed. 'Draco, we should both be telling our secrets, and mine is that I am hopelessly in love with you.' Harry's arms came round Draco's waist. Draco allowed it without hesitation, taking a light hold around Harry's neck. Harry smiled in relief and delight and fixated on Draco's lips.

'Wait, you have not heard my confession,' Draco stopped Harry from leaning forward.

'Let me kiss you first,' Harry countered, and Draco was sorely tempted. Harry swooped in quickly, taking him by surprise. Their lips met firmly. Draco could feel Harry was still slightly uncertain of his welcome, and he wondered if it was the Lord's first kiss with a man. The thought sent his emotions flying again and he pressed forward, licking at Harry's lips until the man opened his mouth. They both moaned at the warm sensations they created together. Harry's arms tightened their grip. Draco could not believe it was real. He had believed Harry would kick him out, literally, and instead he was being kissed to within an inch of his life. He gave as good as he got, however. Their breathing became laboured, and Draco knew he would have to retreat and confess. He held on to his hope that it would not ruin things again.

'Harry,' he whispered, only to have his mouth covered again by an eager Harry.

'Oh, say my name again,' Harry moaned.

'Harry,' Draco repeated, letting Harry kiss him silly.

'I have never tasted anything so delicious,' Harry murmured, placing small kisses on Draco's cheek before drawing back. 'I didn't think I would have the strength of will to ever stop.'

'You must, for I have something to tell you,' Draco said, his face turning serious. Neither of them let go. 'My name is not Draco Spinks,' he blurted out before he lost his nerve. Harry's eyebrows rose. 'Malfoy. My name is Draco Malfoy.'

'What?' Harry looked utterly flabbergasted. His arms went limp, leaving Draco cold. He even shivered. 'You- of course. How did I not put two and two together? How many beautiful young men are there with the name Draco?' The man in question would have been flattered by the compliment, but Harry's expression made him anxious. Harry turned away and walked a little down the hallway, turning and coming back, his face pensive. 'Why did you not tell me?'

'I came here without telling anyone, Sir, but Zabini recognised me. I did not know about the late Lord Potter's will, I was simply afraid that people would go digging into the past.' Harry came close again, one hand grasping Draco's head and pulling him in for a hard, quick kiss.

'Do not, under any circumstances, call me sir again. Can you promise me that?'

Draco found himself smiling despite the grave situation. 'Of course, Harry.'

'Good. Now, can you tell me what happened to your family?'

'It is nothing greatly interesting,' Draco said tiredly. 'My father became involved in some less than legal business deals, to put it mildly. When he was in danger of being discovered he made a deal with someone, a criminal, I don't know his name. Our family had to leave the country, leave no trace…' Draco looked away. 'My own reputation, however, was damaged thanks to my own foolishness.' A gentle hand on his jaw made him look back.

'How?'

'I fell in love with a man, and I was stupid enough not to make sure his intentions were pure. It's not something that one speaks of in society, but at least in France all the right people knew what I was. And … I was ashamed. I could not bear the thought of working as Draco Malfoy. Can you imagine? They would laugh me out into the street.'

'I'm so sorry, for everything.'

'You had nothing to do with it.'

'I have everything you should have had,' Harry said quietly. Draco's eyes narrowed. He held Harry's face between his palms.

'If you had not become Lord Potter, I would never have known you. Everything that happened to me and my family; father's stupidity, Sébastien, every day has led to this.' Draco pressed his lips to Harry's, loving the soft feel and enjoyable taste. He pulled back before they could go any further. 'You have made me realise that reputation is nothing if you cannot respect yourself. It is thanks to you that I told Zabini to stuff it and that he could tell his story to the world because I didn't care. I needed to come home to you instead.' Harry smiled brilliantly, and they both pressed forward to kiss passionately again.

When they finally stopped to breathe, Harry announced:

'We can still ruin Zabini, right?'

* * *

_Chapter 13: Finally_

Draco smiled, his face lighting up Harry's heart. They kissed again, both of them delirious with everything. When they pulled back Draco grinned slyly.

'Blaise deserves whatever you have planned for him.'

'Good, I have a few ideas…' Their grins matched, before Harry's face slowly grew serious. 'But first we must talk.' Harry took Draco's hand in his and led the blond to the sitting room, where they sat down, staying close.

They both felt that they needed to be serious, but neither could resist the temptation of sweet kisses. Draco closed his eyes, his thoughts a blur. How could he ever have doubted Harry? How had he failed to realise the attraction between them? He opened his mouth to Harry's tongue, moaning in delight. Was he allowed this? He hardly dared to believe it. Little did he know Harry's thoughts almost exactly matched his own.

'Alright,' Harry said, drawing back. 'We- I-…,' he took a breath to collect his thoughts, and then looked into Draco's eyes. 'I don't want you to remain my valet,' he said.

'What do you want me to be?' Draco asked, hoping he could guess the answer.

'My companion?' Harry's voice was slightly uncertain, something Draco found endearing. 'My lover?' Draco smiled and gave Harry a kiss for his courage.

'I would like that very much, but I must admit I have enjoyed taking care of you more than I should.' Harry chuckled at that.

'And I have enjoyed your attentions,' he said warmly. 'Though not so much lately, and I missed it,' he added. 'But we will talk of that later.' Draco nodded. 'Draco, if we are to be together, I don't want us to have to hide things.'

'What?' Draco had not considered this possibility. He had simply assumed they would keep things away from the gossipers. The thought of people knowing what he was brought back memories he would rather not recall at all. He shivered, bowing his head.

'Please, hear me out,' Harry pleaded. 'I know it will be hard, but we don't have to listen to what people say. There are no laws against our love-' Draco looked up at the last word, seeing the truth of it in Harry's eyes. He was not Sébastien, and he was the most honest person Draco had ever met, not to mention brave. There was no need for fear. He smiled, relieving Harry's fear in turn.

'You are right, we have nothing to be ashamed of.'

'I would understand if you were uncomfortable with it,' Harry insisted. 'You mentioned Sébastien...'

'Yes, he was… a lying bastard. I have no residual feelings for him, if you are concerned about that.' Harry pretended he didn't, but Draco could tell he was still a little uncertain. 'The only feelings I have are for you, and they are very strong.' This caused Harry's eyes to light up, but with a darker fire Draco enjoyed. Harry pulled him close and kissed him.

'You have no idea how I have fantasised about you,' Harry whispered, moving his lips down Draco's neck.

'Fantasised?' Draco repeated breathlessly. 'I had no idea…' Harry sucked on his neck and he tilted his head to give his former employer better access.

'Hmm, yes, from all the reading I've been doing,' Harry murmured. 'Now I want to put what I've learned into practice.'

'Feel free to show me,' Draco said.

'Oh, I intend to,' Harry growled, making Draco shudder. 'I want to erase his touch from your body.' Draco wasn't sure if Harry meant Blaise or Sébastien, but he knew it did not matter.

'You already have,' he said softly. Harry raised his head, their eyes meeting. He stood up abruptly, pulling Draco with him and leading the way upstairs and into the bedroom. The room was dark, the heavy curtains preventing light from coming in. Harry lit a few candles with the wave of a hand. He pulled Draco into his arms again. Their lips met, familiar now but thrilling all the same. Harry started to feel greedy...

'I want… every inch of you,' he panted, tugging at Draco's robes. Draco knew how Harry looked naked, and was looking forward to touching him, for once. He told Harry as much and received a grin, and a slight blush, in return. They proceeded to strip each other naked in a hurried manner, not unlike those struggling to the surface for air. Harry pushed his former employee down on the bed and paused a moment. Draco gazed back with bated breath.

'You are even better than I imagined,' he announced with a grin. Inside, Harry was more nervous than he had ever been in his life, but he felt confident enough that he could hide these feelings after all his "studying." And when Harry Potter was determined, nothing could stop him. He crawled over Draco, hovering on his hands and knees with only inches between them. He was teasing himself just as much as Draco, who leaned his head up as far as it would go, licking at Harry's lips.

'How do you want me?' Draco asked, skimming his hands over Harry's muscled chest, loving the feel of warm, soft skin.

'In every way,' Harry answered. 'But… I haven't ever done anything like this before, so… how about I just kiss every inch of you and we take it from there?'

'Sounds perfect to me,' Draco breathed, arching up into Harry, who lowered himself completely. They moaned together as their skin slid against each other. Harry started in on his treat. He kissed his way down Draco's chest, feeling his excitement grow as he neared his lover's groin. Draco expressed his encouragement with incoherent noises. He spread his legs and Harry settled between them as best he could. Feeling like he was taking the last step off a precipice – but a precipice that would lead him to a marvellous new world – he took hold of Draco's erect member and tasted it. It tasted quite distinct, and Harry decided he could grow to enjoy it very much. He took a cautious first suck.

'Please,' Draco begged. 'More!' Harry redoubled his efforts, very much enjoying the effect he was having on his lover.

Draco's eyes rolled back and he groaned. No one had tasted him that way since Sébastien. Blaise had not been interested in that. The fact that it was Harry, however, made it even more intense. Draco craned his neck and looked down, gasping at the sight of the young Lord Potter, red lips stretched. Draco's mind almost refused to believe it. This man was in love with him, Draco Malfoy, despite his past.

'Come here, please,' he gasped. Harry stopped, looked up and gave him a feral grin. He slithered back and captured Draco's lips, pressing his body into Draco's and grinding. 'Yes,' Draco hissed, lifting his knees so he was cradling Harry between his legs.

As they gained speed and urgency, Harry lifted his head and their eyes met. He continued thrusting, now panting. Draco gasped at the emotions he saw in those blazing green orbs.

'I love you,' Harry breathed, his expression almost pained. 'I'll fight to keep you with me, whatever the cost.' Draco moaned when Harry got in a particularly pleasurable thrust, almost not managing to keep his eyes open.

'And I will remain with you,' he breathed back. 'Come what may.' As if in response Harry thrust more wildly, and Draco felt the pleasure beginning to crescendo. He reached up and behind his lover, holding onto his buttocks. Harry dived down, crushing their lips together and Draco felt his lover's body spasm just as his own need found its release. He cried out helplessly, his entire body wonderfully out of control. In the distance he vaguely heard Harry mumbling his name over and over.

He let every muscle go limp, feeling utterly spent in every way. Harry's body was a mass of warm, though sticky, comfort. The weight did not bother Draco in the least. Harry groggily lifted his head and kissed Draco sloppily.

'Did I succeed?'

'Succeed in what?' Draco asked, his mind not ready to make great leaps in thought.

'To erase every other man's touch from your body,' Harry explained.

'Without a doubt,' Draco easily promised. Harry smiled and they kissed once more, softly now that their bodies were exhausted. 'Remind me to read more from now on.' Harry chuckled.

'I'm afraid it's my private collection,' he said mock-seriously, 'but I may be persuaded to show you a volume or two.'

'I'd like that.' Harry shifted, then grunted. He called out for his wand, and then used it to clean them both before arranging the covers comfortably. As he tossed the wand on the nightstand, Draco indulged himself and snuggled close. Harry lifted his eyebrows slightly in surprise, but smiled and hugged Draco to him.

'People will despise you for this,' the blond commented. 'They will try to destroy you.'

'Let them try,' Harry replied carelessly. His eyes slid shut.

'Those with power may try to destroy more than your reputation.'

'Then we will fight back. I thought I made that clear?'

'You did… you said you loved me…' Harry opened his eyes and looked down at Draco, who stared back expressionlessly.

'I know perhaps it is early to speak of love, but I have no experience in these emotions, no matter our sexes. I'm sorry if-'

'Don't apologise,' Draco cut in sternly. 'I-… I don't know if I can allow myself that emotion yet. I suppose old wounds take longer to heal than I thought.' Harry pressed a kiss to his forehead.

'Let's not bother with what or when we should feel.' Draco smiled at the words, thinking Harry very wise. He sighed and rested his head on his lover's shoulder. It was so different from what he had had with Sébastien, or Blaise. No obligations or demands. And no secrets either, he realised. They would just be Harry and Draco, damn the gossiping masses to hell.

They fell asleep thus and they did not awake until late the next morning, though the room was still fairly dark thanks to the curtains. The candles were still burning, ever-lasting as they were. Harry yawned and stretched, looking down in slight surprise at the blond head by his side. He shivered in delight when he registered the warm body plastered to his side.

Last night his fantasises had come true and in the most wonderful way. He could not stop staring at the perfect golden locks. He gently shifted so as not to disturb his bed-mate and took his wand from the table. He flicked it very slightly and a crack appeared in the curtains, casting a ray of light across Draco's head. Harry smiled and settled back down.

His mind drifted as he observed his sleeping lover. He knew their lives together would be difficult if they remained in Britain. The easy way out was clear: find someplace remote where people minded their own business, but Harry had no intention of fleeing. Besides, he could deal with being snubbed by society. It was his friends he was most worried about. He doubted anyone would try and change laws just because one Lord decided to come out of hiding.

Then there was Blaise Zabini to consider. He deserved to be arrested and sent away, but Harry felt a personal revenge was needed as well. Financial ruin would suit him best, but that was unlikely considering the extent of the Zabini fortune.

'What can you be thinking about in the morning that causes you to look so serious?' Harry glanced down and received a bemused glance from Draco. 'Well?'

'Zabini.' Draco sighed tiredly and shifted up. Harry was slightly surprised by the intensity of the kiss he received, and the wetness of it. Soon he was moaning into Draco's mouth. Finally, the blond pulled back.

'Let him not come to our bed, ever.' Harry smiled, agreeing completely.

'Our bed shall remain Zabini free,' he declared, pulling Draco down for another kiss. They kissed and embraced leisurely, enjoying their newfound intimacy now that all doubts were completely gone. Their passion mounted and they ended up helping each other to completion, lying side by side this time.

Afterwards they prepared breakfast together. Both of them were feeling slightly giddy over everything, so it took longer than usual, mostly due to the fact that both kept stealing glances at each other, along with the occasional kiss. It was not until they were seated together at the kitchen table that Harry spoke again.

'This is nice, why haven't we done this before?'

'It was not appropriate before.'

'I've prepared food with you before,' Harry pointed out.

'I taught you something you wished to know. We did not eat together.'

'Well, now we can do whatever we want,' Harry said.

'Yes,' Draco agreed.

They shared their first meal in companionable silence. Harry knew he would have to broach the subject eventually, and as they sipped tea he decided it was time.

'I have to confront Zabini,' he said, causing Draco's head to snap up.

'Confront him?' he asked dubiously, raising his eyebrows. 'Are you to be my knight in shining armour?'

'No, but I will take my wand to his throat if the situation demands it,' Harry muttered, unable to contain his anger when he thought about what the man would say about his… affair with Draco. He had been so preoccupied by the happiness of Draco's requited feelings that he had not let Zabini spoil their time together. Now, however, the facts of what Zabini had done were igniting Harry's temper again.

'Harry, you wouldn't, would you?' Draco asked. 'He's a capable wizard, I don't want you to be hurt.' Harry chuckled darkly.

'I remember Zabini from school. I can take him easily.' Draco's expression remained sceptical and this annoyed him. 'I may have inherited a title, but I have actually worked hard all my life up until now,' Harry explained. 'Defence was my best subject. I wanted to be an Auror.'

'Alright, I have no doubt of that. Look, I have no objection to Zabini suffering a little, but is a direct confrontation the best way?'

'I don't know, but I need to tell him, face to face, to stay away from you,' Harry all but growled. Draco rolled his eyes, though inside his emotions were soaring.

'My hero,' he mocked fondly. Harry caught the smile threatening at the corner of his mouth and chuckled. They continued their meal in a lighter tone.

* * *

_Chapter 14: Revenge_

It wasn't until breakfast was almost over that Draco heard the delivery owl tapping at the window. He got up and opened the window. Since it was a pre-paid subscription he shooed the owl away after taking the  _Daily Prophet_  from its grip. He unrolled the paper and stared at the headline.

Harry, quietly sipping his tea, failed to notice Draco's stiff posture. Only when Draco sat down heavily in the chair across from him did Harry look up and frown.

'Surely Zabini didn't get them to print anything so soon?' Draco, his face a blank, silently handed the paper over. Harry took it, his mouth dropping open when he read the headline.

_The Malfoy Scandal Revealed: Malfoy Heir working as Lord Potter's valet while in a questionable relationship. Full story on pages 3, 4, and 5._

Harry quickly perused the lead paragraph.

_An anonymous, but reliable source, has a strange story to tell about the Malfoy family's sudden disappearance some years ago, as well as Draco Malfoy's apparently recent return to Britain. The young heir has been working as Lord Potter's valet, under the name Draco Spinks. Most shocking, however, is the details of their relationship, which was described as "entirely inappropriate."_

Harry glanced up from the paper. Draco was tight-lipped and staring at the table. Harry carefully folded away offending article and stood. Draco's gaze lifted with him.

'I'm going,' Harry stated.

'What?'

'I'm going to confront Zabini,' Harry clarified, moving towards the door. Draco jumped up and grabbed his arm.

'Harry, don't make things worse-' he began, but was interrupted by Harry pulling him in and kissing him until his head spun.

'I am going to confront him, and then I am going to visit my solicitor, and maybe the editor of the  _Daily Prophet._  Finally, I am going to visit a few friends. Things will work themselves out. I promise.' Draco saw the fierce look in his lover's eyes and knew it was pointless to argue. He sighed and followed Harry out of the house, taking the lead when Harry asked him to show the way to Zabini's townhouse.

Upon arriving Draco knocked a little more forcefully than strictly necessary. The house-elf answered the door. Draco strode in just as if it was any other day.

'Master is not receiving visitors today,' the elf grumbled.

'He will receive us,' Draco said without stopping. Harry followed, glancing around curiously at the ostentatious décor. They headed up the stairs, only to stop short as the same house-elf appeared on the top step. Draco drew himself up to his full height. 'Tell your master Draco Malfoy wishes to see him.' The elf, still grumbling, disappeared. Draco did not wait for it to return, but headed straight for their usual sitting room. He opened the double doors wide. Zabini was sprawled elegantly on one of the chaise lounges. He grinned upon seeing his guest. The elf was standing in a deep bow beside him, but vanished just as Draco entered.

'Draco! You've come to your senses, I-' Zabini stopped mid-sentence as he realised Draco had not come alone. He tensed and regarded Harry warily, rising slowly as Harry came to stand in front of Draco. Slowly, a sneer appeared on Zabini's face. 'You've brought your master to defend your honour? You realise you actually need honour for that to work? You can't do anything to me, Potter. I told the truth and nothing more.'

'We also have a truth to tell, Zabini,' Harry spat, barely containing his anger at the sight of the man who has blackmailed his Draco. The thought of the two of them together made his blood boil. The fact that Zabini was ridiculously good-looking did not help matters. 'The blackmail, for one.'

'You can't prove anything!'

'We have Draco's memories-'

'Memories can be fabricated!' Zabini was clearly nervous, but he had a point. Considering the circumstances, Harry doubted they would win over the Wizengamot.

'I have no intention of involving the authorities, at present,' Harry said with surprising calm. He took a step forward and grinned when he noticed Zabini flinch. They both knew Zabini had been a poor student, with his future already secured. Harry could very easily best him. 'I am here to make sure you stay away from Draco from now on, and to inform you that I will destroy you, one way or another.' Zabini struggled to maintain his sneer, but he managed it.

'A threat, Potter? How plebeian of you. Are you going to punch me like a muggle as well?' Harry's wand was out faster than the other wizards could see, pointing right at Zabini's heart.

'A curse will work much better, don't you agree?'

'You wouldn't- you wouldn't dare!' Harry was just about to retort, when a hand on his outstretched arm stopped him.

'Harry, don't do anything you'll regret.' Zabini watched the interaction suspiciously, but visibly relaxed when Harry lowered his wand.

'If you come near us again, you'll find yourself unable to walk.' With that, Harry ushered Draco out. Zabini watched them go. He was just about to get the last word in when Harry turned back the moment he was about to leave. He flicked his wand and Zabini doubled over, falling to his knees. There was a burning sensation in balls. He gritted his teeth, tears forming in his eyes.

'What did you do?' He cried, but Harry was already halfway down the stairs. He would discover later that he would get erections at most inopportune times, but never when he actually desired them. This was a nifty little spell Harry's former Defence teacher had mentioned during one of their chats. Originally invented by Harry's godfather, it was designed to wear off eventually, but not before much humiliation and frustration had resulted from it. Harry thought it a fitting beginning for his revenge.

XXX

Draco was tense as he walked beside Harry down the street. He knew the man had cast a spell just as they left, but he didn't feel like asking Harry what spell. He was about to ask where they were going next, but before he could he was grabbed roughly, dragged into the nearest alley and pushed up against the wall.

Any indignant protests died on his lips as Harry claimed them. The onslaught was merciless and Draco felt his knees start to weaken. This was certainly not what respectable gentlemen did, but he was hardly going to complain. Harry pulled away abruptly, leaving Draco wide-eyed and a little rumpled.

'I never want to imagine you with someone else again,' Harry muttered before kissing Draco a second time. 'Zabini is lucky I didn't hex his bits right off.'

'I never knew you had such a temper,' Draco said breathlessly. Harry blinked rapidly and stepped back, making a half-hearted attempt at straightening Draco's collar.

'I do, I'm afraid. I was known to be rather hot-headed in school. I took it out on the Quidditch pitch mostly. I'm sorry-'

'Don't apologise,' Draco cut in. 'I-… I'm not one to judge anyway. I had quite the temper in my youth as well, when I was spoiled, arrogant-'

'I guess we're well suited, then,' Harry said with a smile, which Draco returned, before Harry's eyes darkened. 'I want you to go home while I visit a few friends. Can you do that?' While Draco hated being left out, he knew it would be best if Harry went alone. 'It's not that I object to being seen with you.'

'I know,' Draco assured him. 'Will you be home for dinner at least?'

'I'll try,' Harry said, 'but you don't have to cook.' Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss to Harry's soft lips.

'You'll feel much better if you have something to look forward to, like a well-prepared meal for two…?' Harry smiled and kissed Draco in reply. He walked out of the alley, but not without several glances back at his lover. Draco made sure his collar was straight before leaving for home.

XXX

Harry went to Aunt Minnie first and was surprised at his reception. She scolded him for letting her make a fool of herself over the years when it had been clear to him that he would never settle for any of the witches she suggested. Harry had been rather embarrassed, but had asked her for her support, which she gave, though not without cautioning him about what lay ahead.

He knew Ron would be at work, so he decided to go straight to his solicitor to get some much needed advice. The firm had represented the Potter family for generations, and Harry had seen no reason to end this relationship.

Judging by the way Harry was immediately shown to the man's office, he rather suspected that they had been expecting him.

Daniel Prewett, a distant relative of Molly Weasley, was a very pragmatic, realistic and no-nonsense sort of fellow. He prided himself on championing for justice and was of that very rare breed in contemporary wizarding society and politics: a pureblooded, middle-aged wizard with a belief in equal rights for  _everyone, human or otherwise_ , while at the same time maintaining a respectable reputation _._  Harry was therefore hopeful, if not entirely confident, that he would still receive respect from this man.

Daniel, wearing simple, yet elegant auburn robes, rose from behind his desk when Harry entered. He had short cut and neat brown hair, and a somewhat boyish face belying his age.

'Lord Potter! Thank Merlin you've arrived, I was just about to Floo call you-'

'Please, I've told you to call me Harry,' the young Lord insisted, while taking the man's hand, inwardly sighing in relief at the greeting. Daniel waved away the comment and steered his guest into a comfortable chair before resuming his seat.

'Explain to me everything that has occurred between you and Zabini,' he requested.

'There is nothing between me and Zabini,' Harry stated, 'unless you count the fact that he has been blackmailing my lover.'

'Your-…' Daniel blinked a few times. Harry tensed, realising the man had not actually considered if the story was true on that account. 'I see…' He seemed to visibly shake himself. 'Blackmail, you say? Do you have any proof?'

'Only Mr. Malfoy's word against his, I'm afraid,' Harry said regrettably. 'But it was not money he was after…' he let the sentence hand and Daniel quickly caught on, his eyes widening.

'Good gracious,' he muttered.

'Do you think there is anything to be done?' Harry asked. Daniel pursed his lips, a habit he had when deep in thought. Harry waited patiently until the man spoke.

'You could ignore it, leave the country-'

'No, I want him destroyed. I want to be able to live here without fear of him or anyone else,' Harry said. Daniel scrutinised him for a long moment.

'Fight,' he said. 'If you ignore the story it will be seen as confirmation, but also of shame. Drag him before the Wizengamot. Let the truth come out, all of it. I happen to know Zabini is desperate for a marriage to alleviate his current financial troubles. He would not want to be implicated in something like this, but probably thinks you won't want things dragged out either. Prove him wrong.' Harry smiled at the man's enthusiasm.

'Thank you,' he said sincerely. Again, Daniel waved the comment away.

'This issue is a hippogriff that's been standing in our sitting room for too long,' he said, shaking his head. 'People are more accepting than they care to admit publicly, I believe. Unfortunately there are a number of people in the Ministry who are trying at this very moment to sneak legislation through. We need a case like this to bring public attention to the matter.'

'I had no idea,' Harry said, worry creeping into his voice.

'Are you truly willing to go all the way on this?'

'If you think we have a chance…'

'I'll be honest, Lord Potter, with the current assembly of witches and wizards on the Wizengamot, the climate is rather conservative…'

'What about Zabini? Anything else we can do?'

'I'll do some digging, alright?' Harry nodded.

'What about the blackmail?'

'We need Mr. Malfoy to come down to the Ministry and make an official report. Do you want me to represent him?' Harry nodded. 'Excellent. And he is in agreement?'

'We have both decided we want to fight to be able to live in peace, together. We love each other very much.' The barest hint of a blush appeared on Daniel's cheeks. He coughed, but nodded in understanding.

'Good, I will speak with the Creature/Human Right's Group I'm familiar with. They will probably want to get involved. I will also write up a statement for the  _Daily Prophet_ , which I hope you will sign later. You should visit any close friends you have in high places and get their support early. And finally…,' Daniel leaned a bit forward, 'I would recommend a few well placed… investments.'

'What do you mean?'

'If you were to promise your involvement in other issues, with your title and family fortune supporting you, it is more likely more Wizangamot members will give you their support in turn.'

'Will you make inquiries?'

'I will arrange a few meetings,' Daniel promised. Harry thanked the man again and they worked out a few more details, including which friendships Harry should pay particular attention too. It seemed Harry would be going into public life after all.

He wrote off letters to the Weasley family and his personal friends, asking them for their acceptance and patience. He then sent friendly letters to the Changs and other families that had been long linked with the Potters, all asking for their continued friendship and support for his upcoming struggle.

After all this Harry was quite exhausted. He had not eaten since his small lunch at Aunt Minnie's. He finally bid Mr. Prewett goodbye and went home directly.

'Draco?' he called as he entered the house. He frowned when he wasn't greeted as usual. He sniffed the air and recognised Draco's cooking, feeling somewhat gladdened at that. He hung up his coat and followed the scent, finding Draco putting down a large dish on the kitchen table. He looked up when Harry entered and smiled.

'I thought we might eat here, to dispel any sense of formality.'

'Sounds perfect,' Harry breathed, coming forward. Draco's brow furrowed slightly.

'You look tired,' he commented.

'I'm exhausted, to be honest. This is going to be difficult,' he said seriously.

'You're worth it,' Draco whispered and Harry's breath hitched even as Draco blushed slightly. Harry reached out and pulled his lover in, while Draco reached around Harry's neck. Their lips met hungrily, yet softly. Both enjoying the sensations, but neither of them wanting things to get too engaging. After a while they parted and sat down to enjoy their dinner. They ate quietly since Harry did not want to discuss things when they were having a nice meal together.

Afterwards Harry insisted on doing all the dishes himself, since Draco was no longer his valet. Draco appeared slightly shocked and reluctant at first, but Harry managed to persuade him out of the kitchen, saying he would be right up in just a bit.

With magic it only took a few minutes. Harry went upstairs, wondering if Draco had understood that Harry wanted him to sleep in his bed tonight as well, and every night thereafter…

He need not have worried. Draco lay invitingly under the covers, though he wasn't trying to be seductive. In fact he was reading a book – one of  _those_  books. He glanced at Harry, but continued reading as his former employer undressed. Harry could hardly keep his emotions contained at the sheer joy he felt seeing Draco in his bed, looking so at ease and at home. It felt right. He slid under the covers and was very pleased when Draco at once set his book aside and turned to face Harry.

'What have you been reading?' Harry asked.

'Well, I had to find something to do while you were out all day,' Draco said reasonably, a hand sneaking up the firm chest. Harry snaked his own arm around Draco's waist.

'Hmmm, and did your reading spark any ideas?' Harry moved in, nuzzling Draco's hair and kissing his cheek.

'A few… how was your day?'

'Let's talk more later, or in the morning. I need lots of sleep before our fight begins, and you… need lots of you,' Harry breathed, kissing along Draco's jaw before capturing his lover's lips.

Harry could not believe how delicious and heavenly it felt kissing Draco. He could not believe he was allowed! He would certainly never tire of it.

Draco was having similar thoughts. He kissed Harry with all the passion in his possession, his fingers playing with the dark hair on Harry's chest. He moved close so their bodies were pressed together. A part of him wanted to know what Harry had been up to all day, but he also knew Harry needed some distraction and rest. He would give his lover what he needed, because he knew Harry would do the same for him. He was happier than he had ever been in his life, despite the trying times he knew would come.

Draco rolled so he was on top of Harry and proceeded to show his lover exactly how happy he was. Harry was very appreciative, and responsive.

_Chapter 15: Experiencing life, together._

Soft, lingering lips caressed Harry's cheek, moving towards his own slightly parted ones. He breathed deeply, almost sighing in sleep. Draco smiled secretly, his alert eyes scanning his lover's face. It was so peaceful he was loathed to wake the man.

'Harry,' he whispered, kissing those pale lips again. He had already been up to pull the curtains, and the sun shone across Harry's face and bare torso. Draco played with the dark hair, something he was growing increasingly fond of. He pressed his lips to Harry's again, more firmly this time, letting his tongue just peak out to taste.

'Hmmm,' Harry murmured, his eyes fluttering open. He smiled when he realised his lover's proximity and immediately started kissing him properly. He threaded his fingers through Draco's smooth hair and pulled him closer. It was then he realised Draco was already clothed.

'You've been up?' he asked.

'Yes, I am used to getting up before you, after all. I have breakfast ready and you have quite a few letters waiting for you.' He sighed at the thought, but rose to face the day.

In the kitchen there was a small stack of letters waiting by Harry's place. He decided to eat a little first before facing the missives. Draco eyed him curiously, but did not comment. After a somewhat tense breakfast Harry opened the letter from Mr. Prewett first. It contained the statement for the  _Daily Prophet_  Harry needed to sign, along with details on who Mr. Prewett had contacted and that the Ministry were waiting for Draco. Harry was surprised at the number of rather high-society people who were willing to support him, but Prewett also noted a few who were most likely to be in favour of Zabini.

Harry read letters from the Changs and other families, most of which were either vague in their support or openly dismissive. Still, Harry was hopeful at a few of them. What he dreaded were the letters from his friends.

Hermione Granger's letter made him smile. She was already a member of the Human/Creature Rights group Mr. Prewett had mentioned. She gave her promise that she would not rest until they had achieved justice.

Ron Weasley's letter would have made Draco cringe at the poor penmanship, but it was heartfelt and sincere, despite the author's clear discomfort with the subject. Harry was gratified to have such a fine friend. Arthur Weasley had written a very nice and warm letter on behalf of his family and Harry had to close his eyes for a moment to stop the happiness to overwhelm him. He had not lost his friends, or those he considered his family. In fact he had received letters from some he had not even written to, like Seamus Finnegan, who's boisterous nature showed in his letter; he insisted Harry "show the world what Gryffindors are made of" by declaring war on the "pureblood pompous arse." Harry coughed at the language, but was grateful nonetheless.

The next letter was from Ginny, and Harry was rather reluctant to read it, but in the end he knew she deserved as much. She did not seem too bitter, but she had clearly been upset upon commencing the letter. Fortunately, she seemed to calm down and ended the letter by thanking Harry for not leading her on and expressing hope that they could become even closer friends. Harry lay the letter down with the other opened ones with a small smile of relief.

He shifted through a few letters from complete strangers, not bothering to read them through if they began in a hostile fashion. He was a little surprised at people's audacity to write to someone they did not know in such a manner. He was just about to toss the rest out without reading any more when he saw a letter addressed to someone else.

'Draco, this letter is for you.' The blond looked up from the  _Daily Prophet_ , whose headline read:  _"Rumours of lawsuit against Zabini. Friends speak out about Lord Potter's relationship"_ (of course these "friends" were nothing of the sort).

'Oh?' He took the letter, his brows furrowing as he examined the fine script. His eyes widened suddenly, clearly having recognised the hand.

'Who is it from?' Harry asked, feeling intensely curious. Draco did not answer, ripping the letter open in his haste. This is what it said:

_Dear Draco,_

_I always imagined that despite everything you would do well in your new life. You have always been stronger than you believe yourself to be. I could not in a million lifetimes, however, have prophesised this particular future for you. I am not certain if I should be amused, horrified or proud…_

_What, in Merlin's name, made you decide to become Lord Potter's valet? I knew the father of the young Lord at school, and he was nothing short of an arrogant show-off. I suspect his son's personality is similar. Draco, tell me honestly, has he taken advantage of you? I know how devastated you were after Sébastien, but you must not let disturbing memories cloud your judgement. If you feel used in any way, please come home to France. No one need know you are living with me._

_If, on the other hand, it is the other way around and you have everything under control, then I congratulate you. Please write me as soon as possible and clarify the matter._

_Severus_

Draco was surprised. He had not thought Severus Snape was a man who cared to keep up with British news. Perhaps the gossip had spread to France? That idea was not at all appealing.

'Are you all right?' Draco looked up and forced a smile. In truth he did not know how to feel. He was glad his former mentor had written to him, but a little upset about some of the content of the letter. He wanted to write back and explain everything as soon as possible.

'Yes, I'm fine. If you would excuse me for just a moment?' Draco did not wait for an answer; he did not need permission anymore after all. 'Might I borrow your study?' Harry nodded and Draco quickly made his way to the library. He sat down behind the desk he had observed Harry sitting at so many times. He found parchment, ink and quill and began writing.

_Dear Severus,_

_I was surprised to hear from you, but very glad. I have missed you dreadfully. I did not know you read the Daily Prophet? It does not matter where you heard the story; it is undoubtedly filled with inaccuracies. Let me tell you the real story._

_I did not give much thought to becoming Lord Potter's valet. I knew our families had once been connected, but he used to be an orphan, not a born aristocrat. He has none of the airs of a Lord, or the manners, sometimes, but I think I have improved on him in that regard. I find his occasional awkwardness charming even. He has so many redeeming qualities I do not even mind that he often flouts rules and norms. He is honest to a fault. Forgive me, I am rambling on._

_I fear I am not making my point as clear as I wish to. Let me say this: he is a wonderful man. He has opened my eye. He has freed me from old chains and demons. I love him dearly. I have no longer any fear of discovery either. We are free, together, and I am no longer his valet, but his partner._

_That is why we plan to fight Zabini. It is a long story, but the short version is this: he recognised and blackmailed me. Harry wants to make sure we can live in peace, and I agree. There are no doubt many other couples who must hide their love. There was a time when I thought it natural and proper, but now I see it is nothing but prejudice._

_I hope you will decide to feel proud, as I am proud of Harry. Your opinion matters most to me above all others', save Harry's of course, but you will not begrudge me that I think._

_Draco_

Just when he had finished there was a knock on the door. 'Yes?' Harry entered. Draco noted the opposite imaged they created. The valet behind the desk, while the Lord knocked before entering his own study. But they were equal now. 'Come and read the letters, Harry.' The young Lord Potter came and read both Snape's and Draco's letter over his lover's shoulder. A blush he had not had for a while crept up his neck as he read the compliments Draco had written. He looked down and smiled at his lover.

'I meant every word,' Draco said, blushing a little himself. Harry leaned down and their lips met softly. Draco reached up and cradled Harry's face, deepening their kiss. Eventually, he let go when he realised Harry could not be comfortable in his position.

'We need to go to the Ministry. I floo called Mr. Prewett, he will meet us there.'

'Good.'

XXX

'Harry.'

'Hmm, Draco.'

'Harry…!'

'Dray…co.'

' _Harry!'_  Lord Potter pulled back roughly when he realised that his lover actually wanted to say something. The blond was sprawled underneath him on their bed, still fully clothes, but Harry had been about to rectify that mistake.

Their day had been long and arduous, but productive. Harry wanted to celebrate. The  _Prophet_  had run a special edition with all the facts and Harry's statement, as well as theories surrounding the upcoming trail. Zabini had even been taking in for questioning. The Human/Creature Rights group held a rally for them and the public was now well informed about the case as well as others Harry had not heard of before. Although the other side was strong and the Wizengamot conservative, Harry felt more confident than he would have thought possible.

'What is it?' Harry asked.

'I want us to… experience each other completely.' Harry's heart skipped a beat, hoping he had understood Draco's meaning. By the look in the man's eyes, Harry supposed he had.

'You want me to…?' Draco smiled and nodded, pulling Harry's head down for a long, thorough kiss. Harry tried to calm things down a bit, knowing they needed to take their time. He had read enough of the books in his collection to know the basics, but the thought of actually performing such an act, well, it was equal parts thrill and terror.

They undressed slowly, kissing each inch of skin revealed. Harry lit candles and directed them to float above them, casting flickering light across Draco's marble skin. They lay down facing each other, Harry's arms around Draco, with Draco's hands splayed out on Harry's chest. They paused for a moment, looking into each other's eyes and seeing their feelings returned, flowing freely between them. For Draco, who had lain with Sébastien, this was still a novel experience. He thought, with a faint smirk gracing his lips, that surely nothing could prepare you to be loved the way Harry loved. For Harry it was all new despite the volumes of information he had consumed. Theory will only get you so far, after all.

'Here,' Draco whispered, taking one of Harry's hands and bringing it to his lips. He sucked in two fingers and moistened them. Harry's pupils dilated and his breathing became slightly laboured. Draco smirked around his mouthful at his lover's dazed expression. He placed the hand behind him and urged it downwards. Harry took control, sliding it downwards. Draco closed his eyes.

'Are you… does it feel pleasurable?' Harry asked softly, wondering if he was doing things right.

'Oh, yes,' Draco assured him, pushing back against Harry's invading fingers. Harry continued his ministrations, delighting in every gasp he produced in his lover. He stared intently as Draco's eyes fluttered open, only to roll back as he moaned.

'Harry, please, no more teasing. Give me my wand.' Harry extricated his fingers reluctantly and took the wand from the bedside table were its owner had left it. Draco performed a spell Harry recognised from numerous stories, then tossed the piece of wood aside, staring at Harry with a feral look. 'Take me.'

'With pleasure,' Harry answered, taking his lover back into his arms and rolling so he was on top. He groaned as their sensitive areas aligned, thrusting a few times. Draco cradled him with his thighs, kissing the breath out of him.

When he finally moved his hips down and filled his lover, it was a powerful moment. Harry's body felt nonexistent and yet all-existent, a complete paradox in and of itself, yet it wasn't "of itself" anymore. They moved together, drawing, receiving and giving pleasure to each other unselfconsciously. Harry would have been ashamed of the noises he made if not for Draco's answering sounds. He felt exquisitely and excruciatingly sensitive as his urgency mounted.

'Draco, I-' Harry tried to hold on to his control.

'Let go,' Draco moaned. 'I want all your passion. Free.' Harry groaned and virtually pounded into his lover, while Draco met every thrust. Their love-making culminated in such blinding pleasure that Harry did in fact go blind for a few moments.

Afterwards they lay together and spoke quietly of what was to come, and of the past, Draco's head on Harry's shoulder.

'I cannot help but think of what my life would have been like if I had not come here,' Draco said softly. 'It would have been such a dull existence, and I would have remained the same shallow person.'

'You were never shallow,' Harry admonished. 'You were taught to put more value on certain things.'

'You are too kind to me, but I enjoy it too much to argue.' They both smiled.

'Perhaps in time you will prefer a dull life. This trial will not be easy, we may not even win. We may end up leaving England.'

'But we will leave together, and only as a last resort. I will not abandon you, Harry. I will never run from anything again.'

'I know. You are strong, Draco,' Harry kissed the top of his lover's head.

'Because you give me strength,' Draco murmured, feeling sleep taking hold of him.

'And you me,' Harry answered. They fell asleep together, as they would every night for the rest of their lives, together. A Lord and valet, perhaps not a conventional pair, but a couple that would be an inspiration to many people from all walks of life in the years to come.

_The End_

Yes, that is the end, but for those who absolutely must know what happened to our "dear" Zabini, I offer this note:

Blaise Zabini would eventually lose the trial and his entire reputation, along with most of his fortune. After spending five years in Azkaban for blackmail, he would remove to his family's villa in Italy, from where he would never leave. Draco and Harry would both be saddened by the rumours that he did not change his ways at all, and all good company shunned him. After a few years he would drink himself to death. Not due to the physical effects of alcohol (easily fixed with magic), but because he drunkenly spelled his wine-cellar to refill his glass at certain intervals, while spelling the glass to pour in his mouth. He fell asleep while the glass kept pouring, and drowned. His mother out-lived him some twenty years.

**Author's Note:**

> Many of you would probably have liked to have seen the trial. But the story of Harry and his valet (o.O) is over and dragging the story out would not add anything worth reading in my opinion. I hope you liked the story despite this.
> 
> Thank you to Victory by Grace and Hidden Lily for their beta work.


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